I settled myself at the foot of the bed, resting my hands on my knees. “Well, you can imagine how Mr. Bingley was,” I began, carefully observing Jane’s reaction.
As expected, a soft blush rose in her cheeks, and her eyes brightened. “Yes?”
“He was every bit as good-natured and agreeable as you would hope,” I said, watching her expression soften with each word. “If anything, his manners were even more pleasing under his own roof than they were at the Assembly.”
“I am not surprised,” Jane said quietly, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
I couldn’t resist teasing her a little. “Oh, I’m sure you’re not. And as for the rest of the household—well, that’s where it gets interesting.”
Jane’s brow furrowed slightly, though the corners of her mouth twitched. “Go on.”
“The sisters,” I said, leaning in, “are precisely what you’d expect—polished, yes, but with a constant air of superiority hanging around them like bad perfume. Miss Bingley spends most of her time either fawning over Mr. Darcy or making veiled remarks about how everyone else in the country is dreadfully provincial.”
Jane chuckled softly. “Surely they cannot be that bad.”
“Oh, trust me, they can be. Mrs. Hurst is hardly better—content to watch her husband nap while she drops comments like she’s casting stones at anyone not born to fortune.”
Jane shook her head, still unwilling to think ill of anyone. “I’m sure there is kindness somewhere in them.”
I shrugged. “Perhaps. I’m not sure I’d want to spend the time it would take to find it, though.”
“And what of Mr. Darcy?” she asked after a pause. “What impression did you form of him?”
I straightened slightly, for I’d been saving the best—or rather, the most bewildering—for last. “Well,” I began, hesitating for effect, “I suppose I should tell you all about what really happened at Netherfield.”
Jane’s expression shifted from curious to concerned, as if she already half-guessed what was coming. “Lizzy, what do you mean?”
I leaned in, lowering my voice as if what I was about to share were some kind of dark secret. “Jane, Mr. Darcy is… odd.”
Jane’s brows knit together in concern. “Odd? In what way?”
I sighed, settling back against the bedpost. “Where do I even begin? He is the most rigid, uncomfortable man I have ever met. The moment I set foot at Netherfield, he barely looked at me. He spent most of the time glowering at everything and everyone—until, of course, he wasn’t.”
Jane tilted her head. “Wasn’t?”
“Yes,” I said, narrowing my eyes in confusion as I remembered the bizarre shift in his behavior. “One moment, he was the stiffest man alive, and the next… well, it’s hard to explain.”
“Please try,” Jane urged, her soft smile not quite masking her growing concern.
“Well, you remember how he looked at the Assembly—so proud and distant, I could’ve sworn he’d snap if one more person tried to talk to him.”
“Yes,” Jane said, “though I’m sure he was simply not at ease.”
I let out a short laugh. “Oh, I thought the same thing, but no. There’s more. Jane, you didn’t see him on the lawn before I came into the house. He screamed.Screamed, Jane, and then tore off like a man running from some terrible creature.”
Jane’s eyes widened in surprise. “Screamed?”
“Yes! I thought he was being chased by a pack of wolves. But no, there was no one.Nothing. And after that—oh, after that, he did the strangest thing of all. He asked me to dance one evening. Whennobodyelse was dancing.”
Jane blinked. “He did?”
I nodded. “He approached me with all the grace of a man who was being dragged by a team of horses. He practically stumbledacross the room and then asked me if I would dance with him—stiff as a board.”
Jane was clearly struggling to process this. “Mr. Darcyasked you to dance?”
“And not just any dance. We danced a reel, Jane. And do you know what happened next?”
She shook her head, looking even more perplexed.
