Little bits of feather poking out of the pillow scratched at Elizabeth’s arm. She rolled over to her other side. If only Caroline was a little more reasonable and persuadable!
Of course she would not beCarolinethen.
Elizabeth smiled to herself in the dark.
The cold air bit at her face.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, and she promised herself, again, that she would always support Caroline.
They ought to convince Bingley or Papa to take them all to London once Darcy had abandoned Hertfordshire — the sooner he left, Elizabeth was convinced, the better it would be for Caroline’s heart.
Yet part of her hated the idea of him leaving, and her never seeing Mr. Darcy again.
But when they went to London after he left, she could tramp up and down Bond street with Caroline, chattering endlessly to distract her friend from her unhappiness. They would visit the booksellers, look in at all the modistes, watch plays in Covent Garden, watch the queens of fashion parade up and down St. James, and generally have a fabulous time.
There would only be a few small parties, since Town would be mostly abandoned, but there would be enough company to break Caroline out of the melancholy that she would be sure to fall into.
Also she would meet other men, men more deserving of her love.
Having settled this plan in her mind, Elizabeth fell asleep, twisting and turning in bed.
But as she slipped into unconsciousness, it was thoughts of Darcy that returned to arouse and bother her. That brief touch of his hand covering her hand.
The way his lips looked. The pained glow in his eyes as he told her something very true about himself.
And also the bushiness of his sideburns, the smooth, healthy appearance of his skin, the way that he always wore the finest coats, and how they always fit him perfectly. And his thick dark hair.
Above all, his serious eyes.
Such an odd serious man…
When she awoke, sweaty, and with her legs all tangled up in the bedcovers, Elizabeth was again not quite sure what she had dreamed of, but she was sure that Mr. Darcy had figured in those dreams prominently.
Ugh.
Caroline’s! He wasCaroline’s!
Even ifhedid not want Caroline,Elizabethwould win no profit in thinking about him.
After she dressed, Elizabeth half stumbled down to the breakfast room, with rather more tiredness than she usually did. Delicious coffee, rolls and ham were laid out. They always had excellent coffee present on the table, as Papa had a particular fondness for the beverage.
Papa already sat at his breakfast, a newspaper neatly folded by his side, abandoned in favor of a recent issue of the proceedings of the Royal Astronomical Society perched in his hand that he was rereading because he had not been wholly persuaded by a paper published in it.
However, Papa seemed to have some difficulty focusing on what he was reading, as Mr. Collins determinedly and unceasingly spoke.
Mr. Collins eagerly looked up at her entry and said, “Loveliest cousin. Sit down. Do sit down.”
Instead of responding Elizabeth poured her coffee, adding cream and sugar. She half growled at Mr. Collins, and, as Papa was not reading it, she seized the newspaper from beside his plate.
Papa glanced away from the journal he was reading. “No please or may I?”
Elizabeth swatted at his head with the back of the paper and he laughed. “Nothing of note happened today.”
“Loveliest cousin, you ought to show more respect for your honored father.” Mr. Collins used that term for her again.
Elizabeth winced inside.
He added, “You read the newspaper? I hardly think that it is the place of a woman such as yourself to interest yourself in the doings of the Great and the Public.”
