Elizabeth blew out the lantern beside the bed and lay back on her pillow, her hand absently picking at a stray thread on the covers. “Maria has been playing it more frequently, I understand. Lady Lucas has been commanding it, you see, as Maria is out in society now with Lydia, so there is an expectation that she ought to be able to perform.”
Jane sighed. “And Charlotte claims Maria is better than she is, does she not?”
“You know our friend too well. Yes, she was lamenting that very thing to me.” Elizabeth’s voice shifted into a tone that mimicked her friend’s most petulant tone. “Why should I practice when no matter how hard I may try, Maria will always be accounted prettier, livelier, and more pleasing?”
Elizabeth gave up playing with the loose thread and scooted further under the covers, casting her head back on the pillow. “She’s right, you know.”
Jane lifted her head in the darkness. “Lizzy, what a horrid thing to say!”
“I do not mean that I agree with it. But you must acknowledge that Charlotte speaks rightly. There really is nothing she can do to please Lady Lucas with her accomplishmentsor the beaux she might attract. I do not say that Lady Lucas slights poor Charlotte, but you know as well as I that our mother has never let her hear the end of your beauty compared to Charlotte’s, or my liveliness compared to hers, or Mary’s playing…”
“Oh, Lizzy, stop. I hate it when Mama compares us like that.”
“So does Charlotte, though she will not say it. And who can blame Lady Lucas for doting on the daughter, who is more likely to bring her maternal pride? Certainly, none of her friends.” Elizabeth growled at the darkness and twisted her fists in the blankets.
Jane was silent for a moment. “Do you think that is the root of Charlotte’s unhappiness?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not know. It seemed to worsen when the weather changed, but that could be my imagination. I think…” She chewed her lip. “No, I am sure of it. It is much more than feeling overlooked by her family. There is something else. I wish I knew what it was.”
Jane rolled over, tucking her feet up and accidentally pulling at the covers like always. Elizabeth fought to keep her share as Jane yawned, unaware that she was a blanket thief. “You did not ask her? Why would she keep that from you?”
“Because she does not know herself.”
“That makes no sense at all, but I do not understand half what you say, anyway.” Jane’s voice drifted into drowsiness. “You never did explain how you came back all covered in mud with a sore ankle. Did you really walk all the way from Netherfield?”
Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the covers. “Yes, well… I had some help. From the horse,” she amended hastily.
“You hate that horse,” Jane replied groggily.
“‘Hate’ is such a strong word,” Elizabeth mumbled, but Jane’s deepening breaths yielded no sense of any reply forthcoming.
Just as well. It would not do at all to tell anyone that she had, through her own foolishness, soiled the inside of some strange gentleman’s carriage. And it certainly would not do to think about that other strange gentleman’s dark brown eyes and strongarm.
Not at all.
London
“No, Bingley, I do not think we should return to Hertfordshire. What are you hoping to accomplish by it? The property is already leased to another, there are no other eligible houses in the area, and there is nothing to be gained by tormenting yourself.”
Charles Bingley stretched his boots before the fire grate, swirling a glass of Darcy’s brandy before his unfocused eyes. “Oh, right you are, of course, of course,” he slurred. “I only thought… well, you are quite right, Darcy. Nothing remains to be done. ‘Tis only…”
“What?”
Bingley shifted upon his elbows to sit a little straighter in his chair. “This is an excellent brandy.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow. “I should hope so. I certainly paid an excellent price for it.”
“And this chair,” Bingley continued, his words garbling somewhat. “Fine leather. Truly the finest.”
“Poor leather is uncomfortable and does not last,” Darcy returned mildly. “Your point?”
Bingley shifted again, a frown turning his ruddy features. “Why, it is only that since we first met, you have been playing host to me. Never once have I been able to offer you a comfortable chair by the fire and a warm brandy.”
Darcy had been in the act of tugging his pocket watch from his waistcoat, but his hand stilled on the fob. “That is not true. You paid for our meals and travel expenses today, for example. And when we are at the club together, we take turns buying rounds.”
Bingley scoffed and waved a hand. “Bother that. I mean in my own home! When was the last time you called at my flat?”
Darcy’s brow crunched in thought. “A fortnight ago. You asked me to look over a new rug you had purchased.”
