“Youdowant to go, don’t you, Jane?” I asked, watching her carefully.
“Oh, yes,” she said quickly. “I’m looking forward to it.”
But there it was again, that flicker of uncertainty. I knew she liked Mr. Bingley, of course—who wouldn’t? He was all charm and smiles. But dining at Netherfield, with that gentleman’s cheerful presence sadly absent this evening, wasn’t likely to be the most relaxing evening. Especially when one took into account that Caroline Bingley could be as sharp as her gown was fashionable.
“It’s only a few miles,” Mama continued, adjusting Jane’s bonnet as though it were a crown, “and a fine day for a ride. You shall go on horseback.”
I blinked, glancing at the window where the sky had taken on a distinctly gray hue. The clouds were thick and dark, promising rain that might begin at any moment. “On horseback?”
“Of course,” Mama said. “The carriage is too much of a bother for such a short journey. Besides, a little ride will give her a healthy glow! Jane always looks loveliest with a bit of color in her cheeks.”
I shot Jane a look, and she gave me the faintest smile in return. She knew better than to argue with Mama once she had her mind set on something. I, on the other hand, had no such restraint.
“It looks like it will rain,” I said, more firmly this time. “Perhaps the carriage would be a better option.”
“Nonsense, Lizzy!” Mama replied, dismissing me with a wave of her hand. “The rain won’t start for hours. And besides, a bit of fresh air will do her good.”
A bit of fresh air? More like a thorough soaking. But before I could say anything more, Jane was already stepping toward the door, her riding gloves in hand.
“I’ll be well enough,” she said. “It’s not far, after all.”
I sighed, knowing this wasn’t a battle I would win. Jane was too good-natured to protest, and I could hardly argue with both her and Mama in the same breath.
“Well,” I said, following her to the door, “at least wear your warmest cloak. If it does start to rain—”
“I’ll manage,” she interrupted, giving me a gentle smile. “I promise, Lizzy. It’s only dinner.”
Only dinner. Yes, but dinner at Netherfield, with the weight of Mama’s ambitions hanging over her like a cloud just as heavy as the one outside.
“Very well,” I muttered, though I wasn’t satisfied. “But if you catch a cold, I’ll never forgive Mama.”
Mama’s voice floated from the sitting room, as if she could hear every word despite being across the house. “Jane, don’t dawdle! You mustn’t be late for such an important engagement.”
Jane gave me a quick, rueful look, then stepped out into the brisk air. I watched as she mounted the horse with practiced ease, the sky already darker than it had been mere moments ago.
“Be careful,” I called after her. She waved, offering me one last smile before urging the horse forward.
I stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching her figure disappear down the lane. The wind had picked up, rustling the leaves in a way that made me even more uneasy.
“Well,” I muttered to myself, “this ought to be a disaster.”
Darcy
The carriage rolled toa stop outside my townhouse, and I stepped out into the afternoon air. I had hoped the rain would ease by now, but it seemed London had no intention of obliging. The streets were wet, and the sky remained a dull gray, though the steady drizzle had at least turned into a fine mist.
The door opened before I even had time to knock. Mrs. Hodges, my housekeeper, was already standing there, hands folded, ready for whatever instruction I might give.
“Welcome back, sir,” she said with a small curtsy. “Shall I have the kitchen prepare a full supper for you this evening?”
I paused in the entryway, shrugging off my coat and considering her question. The familiar smell of my own home and the quiet warmth of the house were inviting enough, but I was annoyed enough after wasting an entire day, coming to London just to claim a few silly baubles. The sooner I got my carriage turned around, back for Netherfield, the sooner I could forget about this whole blasted day.
Before I could answer Mrs. Hodges, there was a firm knock at the door. A footman promptly stepped forward to open it, revealing a man in a dark coat holding a large, neatly sealed box. He bowed slightly before speaking.
“From Arthurson & Wilkes, sir,” he said, glancing between me and the footman as he stepped inside.
I stared at the box. The contents were inside—the brooch, the other items from Isobel McLean’s estate. I had no desire to open it just now to look. In fact, the idea of sitting alone in the quiet of my study, rifling through the belongings of a woman I had never met, seemed like the worst possible use of my afternoon.
If I left now—immediately—I could be back at Netherfield just after dark. I’d miss supper, but Bingley wouldn’t mind, and frankly, I would rather that than trouble Mrs. Hodges to make up my room for just one night. Besides, then Georgiana would hear I was in town and I would have no peace until I called on her and Lady Matlock, smoked some cigars with my uncle, got dragged to the club with Richard…
