19
29 December
Charlottestudiedherselfinthe hand mirror, tilting her head this way and that and pulling the skin of her face into unnatural stretches. “Do you think I look less like a ghost and more like a ghoul today? Is there a difference?”
Jane laughed. “I am no expert on specters, but there is a lovely rosiness to your cheeks that wasn’t there yesterday. I am sure of it.”
“Rosiness? I thought that was queasiness. The aftermath of that liver and cabbage feast you forced upon me for breakfast.”
I swatted her playfully. “Be grateful! Most women pay a fortune for cosmetics to achieve that flush, and here you are, getting it from our exclusive, bespoke menu.”
“I daresay, Lizzy, I never imagined ‘bespoke’ to mean ‘liver and smelly vegetables.’”
“There’s a first time for everything. Besides, who wouldn’t want to indulge in such... culinary ‘delights’ for the sake of one’s health?”
She shuddered. “The things I endure for you. Fainting into a dead swoon is not nearly so bad as it sounds, you know.”
Jane giggled. “Endure a bit longer, dear Charlotte. We’ve got kidneys and spinach waiting for dinner.”
Charlotte feigned a gag, clutching her throat dramatically. “Cannot I just stay ill? Please, Lizzy!”
“Oh, hush,” I laughed. “If it gets too much, I promise a pot of blancmange awaits as your reward once you’re in the pink.”
“That,” Charlotte sighed, “is motivation enough.”
Jane traced her finger down Charlotte’s wrist, as Doctor Abernathy had taught us, and felt her pulse. “How is your heart, Charlotte? Any palpitations today?”
Charlotte paused, considering for a moment. “Actually, it’s been quieter—like a mouse instead of a galloping horse. And my stomach feels... manageable. Almost like it was in Hertfordshire, before I ventured into the wilds of London.”
“That’s a relief,” I sighed, pouring a cup of tea for her. “But don’t think for a moment it means you’re about to embark on any more London adventures just yet.”
Charlotte’s eyes twinkled with feigned mischief. “But Lizzy, the wilds of London beckon! Just think of the liver and cabbage I might be missing out on in the local taverns.”
Jane chuckled. “While your spirits appear to be returning, it’s the sofa for you. And perhaps a good book.”
Charlotte attempted a pout, but it was clear her heart wasn’t in it. “Might I at least be allowed to get on my feet? Just a turn about the room? Miss Bingley always said there was nothing like it for the constitution.”
I crossed my arms, feigning sternness. “And you would take Miss Bingley’s advice in matters of health? You would do better to emulate Mr. Hurst for a little longer, who understands the benefits of restful slumber. In every room of the house.”
“But Elizabeth,” Charlotte wheedled, “one does miss the sensation of the ground beneath one’s feet.”
“Perhaps tomorrow,” Jane suggested. “For today, it’s rest and more rest. And perhaps, if you’re good, a blancmange may await you.”
With a playful sigh, Charlotte settled more deeply into the sofa. “Very well, but only because you two are so insistent. But mark my words, one of these days, I’ll escape and you shan’t be able to catch me.”
I laughed, raising my tea cup. “If you can manage that, I won’t even bother to chase you.”
“Jane, Lizzy?” My uncle appeared at the door, holding something out. “This just came. Addressed to me, like the others, but I know very well I am not its intended recipient.”
Jane rose to take it from him, and returned with a cream-colored envelope delicately embossed with the Van der Meer family crest. Handing it to Charlotte, she said, “For you.”
The color in Charlotte’s cheeks deepened. She broke the seal and scanned the contents, and she smothered a bashful smile as she read.
“What does it say?” I asked, trying to keep the curiosity out of my voice but failing miserably.
“It’s from Mr. Van der Meer,” Charlotte replied, her voice hushed and trembling. “He sends his warmest wishes for my speedy recovery and hopes to see me in good health soon.”
Jane and I exchanged a knowing glance, which Charlotte caught immediately. “Oh, don’t even start, you two. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley have also sent notes of well-wishes. It merely shows they’re considerate gentlemen, not that they’re harboring any secret affection.”
