Elizabeth was chagrined at her mother’s apparent lack of concern for her husband. She had not even glanced in his direction whilst in the room. With a grim sigh, she met Jane’s eyes. “Do be patient with her, Lizzy. You know she truly is worried for Papa. She is only… distracted.”
“Jane, only you can truly speak the best of people and still contrive to be honest. I shall never know how you manage it.” Elizabeth reached to squeeze her sister’s hand.
A flash of movement diverted their eyes once again to the window. They were just in time to see a moderately handsome gentleman in a red coat disembark to stand by Mr Bingley. “Who could he be, I wonder?” Jane’s breath fogged the glass.
Elizabeth gestured flippantly. “Whoever he is, he would be wise to avoid Kitty and Lydia,” she quipped. Flopping back into her cushiony chair, she stubbornly returned to her book.
“Lizzy, look,” Jane waved her hand, beckoning her back. Elizabeth complied unhappily. Mr Darcy was out of the coach now, his arm reaching inside to help out a willowy blonde beauty. “Do you think she could be the sister we have heard of?” Jane studied the girl down below. She took small, uncertain steps and leaned timidly on Mr Darcy’s arm.
Elizabeth pursed her lips. The famous Miss Darcy: constantly idolized by Caroline Bingley, assiduously praised by her brother, and repeatedly maligned by George Wickham. If her judgment of the character of the witnesses should be accounted, Elizabeth felt she would lean toward Wickham’s appraisal of the young girl. “Splendid,” she replied in a deadpan.
Jane turned to look her fully in the face. “Lizzy, please do try to remain calm and polite. I know very well that you are angry, but please… for my sake if nothing else.” Jane took her hands hopefully.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes critically. “Why, Jane Bennet, I do believe you are trying to hoodwink me! If you think you can convince me that my affairs with Mr Darcy can possibly distract Mr Bingley from your beauty, you are quite mistaken. He is entirely smitten with you, you know. I never saw the like. You need not fear for yourself,” she winked.
Jane responded with a slow, calculating smile. “Well, then Lizzy, think what a pleasure it would be for us to be married to such close friends!” Pleased with herself for her clever retort, she beamed back at her sister’s flustered face. “Come, Lizzy, we will be wanted downstairs. I suppose… well, that gown will have to do. There is no time to change now.”
Elizabeth tossed her head with a mutinous spirit and held it yet higher. Together they politely took their leave of Mrs Cooper and began the long march downstairs.
Elizabeth’sfirstimpressionofGeorgiana Darcy was lukewarm, at best. The girl stood half-hidden by her brother’s shoulder. She was tall and fair, with a light but womanly figure. She was well grown for her years but clearly not as comfortable in company as Kitty, who was near to her in age. Elizabeth decided that was not wholly a bad thing and resolved to withhold judgment until she knew the girl better.
Georgiana smiled politely but only offered the barest of civilities when they were introduced. She cast her eyes to the floor, her cheeks red. Elizabeth had little time to ponder whether the girl’s reticence could be attributed to extreme vanity or painful shyness. She was busy herself, trying to duck Darcy’s steady gaze and thwart her mother’s overly officious attentions to their guests.
The gentleman in the red coat proved to be another cousin, a colonel in the Regulars. Kitty and Lydia tittered shamelessly over how handsome he was in his regimentals. He was wonderfully gentlemanly with them, even going so far as to tease the younger girls a little as he took his seat, but he seemed intensely interested in herself. Elizabeth could only wonder what the man had heard.
Thanks to her mother’s machinations, Elizabeth found herself situated between Darcy and the colonel, who occupied her father’s favourite wing-back chair. Miss Darcy sat silently on the sofa, on the other side of her brother. The only relief to be found was in Bingley cleverly taking a seat on the other side of the room between Mrs Bennet and Jane. Mary sat not far from Jane, frowning over her book.
With her mother so occupied, the only present sources of mortification were Kitty and Lydia, who were noisily remaking their bonnets just to the colonel’s right. Lydia did not miss an opportunity to smile or even wink boldly at him whenever he looked her direction. As it was, Elizabeth felt her humiliation was complete.
Elizabeth was seated on the same sofa as Darcy and his sister. Each uncomfortably kept their distance, a nervous tension filling the space between them. Fitzwilliam arched a brow as he took in the awkwardness of the pair. They never looked each other in the eye; the faces of both were flushed. Darcy stiltedly but politely asked after Mr Bennet.
“He has not yet awakened, sir, but we have a good deal of hope. It was very kind of you to send for a skilled nurse.” Elizabeth trained her eyes steadily on the tea tray, her voice everything that was mannerly and insincere. “Mrs Cooper has been most welcome, but I must insist that we be allowed to repay you for your trouble.”
“There is no need, Miss Elizabeth. I am pleased to be of some service to your father. I beg you would think no more of it.”
“I am afraid I must, sir, for my father would not wish to be in your debt.” Her eyes flashed warningly to his, only for a second. “It is not seemly to neglect one’s obligations, would you not agree, Colonel?”
Darcy bit back a retort. Was she implying that he had attempted to ingratiate himself to her father and family with his purse? Or was there a more subtle barb? She still believed him dishonourable and remiss in the management of his affairs. He gritted his teeth.
Fitzwilliam was lighter on his feet. “Indeed not, Miss Bennet. As a man sworn to duty myself, I regard attendance to my personal obligations as my highest order of business. It is the mark of a man, or woman, for that matter.”
“I could not agree more, Colonel.” She cast a sweetly arch expression toward Darcy, who paled a little. “May I ask, Colonel, do you regard your duty to king and country—the pride of your rank—more or less highly than your obligations to family and friends, the companions of your youth?”
“Well, I am uncertain what you can mean. In my mind, they are one and the same. Serving my country keeps my family in safety. By fulfilling my official commitments with distinction, I bring honour to my family name in my small way. As for my friends, why most of them serve alongside me. I believe, Miss Bennet, that some of the finest, most noble men I have ever had the honour of knowing wore regimentals.” Kitty and Lydia twittered their agreement from his far side, breaking into giddy laughter.
Darcy made a strangled sound. They had been seated under five minutes, and already Fitzwilliam was digging a deeper hole by the second, falling right into Elizabeth’s trap. His cousin reluctantly tore his eyes from the lady’s face to observe Darcy’s frantic expression, the minuscule shake of his head. Fitzwilliam’s eyes widened in sudden understanding.
Elizabeth followed Fitzwilliam’s gaze, turning to Darcy questioningly. Darcy snapped his eyes back to hers with deliberate nonchalance. His body tensed with the effort of locking his wavering gaze to her flinty expression.
A rebellious dark tendril fell low over her forehead, and, momentarily distracted, he absolutely stared. He held her eyes for a long beat, his mouth opening despite his lack of words. How was it that the more time he spent in her company, the more like a knobby-kneed colt he became? Should he not be gaining confidence as his reward for continued effort? Fitzwilliam cleared his throat, forcing him to start from his reverie.
“I… Er... That is... You are looking very well today, Miss Elizabeth.”
Her lips parted. Once again, he had taken her by surprise. Her eyes took in her own appearance; the gown which should long ago have been retired, the worn shoes, the splash of broth on her sleeve from her “mishap” that morning.
Cynically she raised her eyes back to meet and share a mischievous smile over Darcy’s shoulder. The girl’s eyes twinkled in camaraderie as she grinned between Elizabeth and her brother. Perhaps Georgiana Darcy had potential, after all.
“I thank you, sir,” she managed, most civilly if she did say so herself. “I fear you have caught me while I was not prepared to receive company.”
