“No, but it would give vent to my feelings, so I could go about doing something useful. But it seems I shall not even be permittedthatconsolation, because Mr Stuffy won’t allow it.” Elizabeth made a mock moustache with her fingers and stuck her nose up in the air until Jane snorted and giggled. “Ladies must be accorded the utmost dignity,” she intoned in a deep, nasal falsetto.
Jane clutched her stomach and nearly rolled back in the grass in laughter, but then her eyes widened, and she drew a sharp breath, putting out her hand. “Lizzy!”
“—And pray do not argue with me, Miss Bennet, for you see, I have this manly facial hair and my servants will—”
“Lizzy!”
Elizabeth dropped her fingers in some annoyance, but then froze when she saw where Jane was pointing. Mr Darcy had emerged from behind the rose hedge—his features dark and his eyes stormy. Elizabeth gracelessly clambered to her feet as she watched his fists clenching and his chest rising in steady, measured breaths.
Before she could apologise, he clipped out, “I meant to ask you both if you would care for some afternoon tea, but perhaps that would be a bit toostuffyfor you.” He turned on his heel and marched away.
Elizabeth covered her face with her hands and wished she could crawl under a rock.
Chapter 6
Wyoming, United States
April 1900
Themorningafterallthe soldiers had arrived, Elizabeth and Kitty were taking their turn together in the general store with Mrs Gardiner. Elizabeth plunged her scoop into the fresh coffee beans, drinking in their rich earthiness as she measured five pounds into a burlap bag. Her task complete, she rolled down the top and returned to the customer at the counter.
“Here you are, Mrs Long, and Kitty has gone out back to set out your flour. Will there be anything else?”
“No, thank you, Elizabeth,” the woman said as she withdrew a coin pouch. “Have you seen your father lately?”
“I ride out at least once each week. I was there yesterday, in fact.”
“My husband tells me a new lot of soldiers came to town yesterday. Is it true? I don’t know what we’ve come to, overrun with the English all over again!”
Elizabeth laughed. “They come in peace, Mrs Long. Did you bring a wagon to town? I will have Billy load your heavier supplies.”
The woman shook her head and sighed, all the doleful predictions she might have uttered silenced because of Elizabeth’s lack of interest in gossip. “Yes, thank you, Elizabeth. Tell your mother I asked after her, will you?”
“I will, Mrs Long.”
Elizabeth stepped into the storeroom and found her cousin leaning against a shelf, admiring the newest men’s fashion magazine from New York. His back was to her, and he was oblivious to the world. She fisted her hand at her hip and deliberately knocked a bucket of nails on the floor with a metallic crash.
Billy jumped, dropped the magazine, and yelped, “I’m sorry, Mrs Gardiner!” He spun around to Elizabeth, who merely shook her head. “Oh, Lizzy, it’s only you. What a fright you gave me! Try not to be so clumsy, will you?”
“Or you could try working! Mrs Long is waiting for you to load her order. I suggest you do it before Aunt finishes with the account books and sees you standing here like a bump in the floor.”
He groaned and put away his magazine. Elizabeth turned, but paused at the door to look over her shoulder and smile sweetly. “Oh, and be sure to pick up the nails.”
Billy grumbled a colourful assortment of phrases not suited for an aspiring parson, but slowly set about his duties. It pained her to watch him, for he worked as if he were swimming in molasses. Such meticulous care over each movement might have been laudable if he had been restrained by precision or deep thought, but that was not Billy’s impediment. No, he dragged his feet because his head was somewhere else, and no place useful. And he was lazy.
Elizabeth watched long enough to ensure that he did not try to read his magazine while loading Mrs Long’s wagon. Afterwards, she returned to the front to dust the shelves behind the counter—it seemed Lydia had neglected to do so the previous day—and paid little mind when the side door of the shop jingled open. One by one, she lifted the colourful jars of candies, polishing every surface, until the back of her neck prickled. She turned and found Jake Bryson leaning over the counter, staring at her.
He pushed up the brim of his hat with his thumb. “Mornin’, Miss Lizzy,” he drawled. “You’re lookin’ pretty today.”
“Good morning, Mr Bryson,” she answered with perfect civility. “Have you come to settle your account this month?”
“Well, not even a smile for me? Come on, Miss Lizzy, have you decided about the church social?”
“I have decided I will attend, but I must decline your invitation, Mr Bryson. My sister had counted upon my company, and I cannot disappoint her.”
“Oh, don't be that way. Don't you have enough other sisters she can ride with?”
Elizabeth busied herself organising the jars displayed on the counter, so she did not turn away from him fully, but was not required to look him in the eye. “Nevertheless, I have given her my promise.”
