“No? That sounds like a different opinion than you professed before.”
“Perhaps I learned something I did not know before.”
Jane looked sceptically to her sister’s face, but allowed the subject to rest when Elizabeth said no more. “Did you get the letter from Uncle Philips?”
“Yes. He said it was perfectly legal for me to sell Corbett Lodge to anyone I chose for any amount I deemed satisfactory, even as little as a pound. He also said there would be no impediment even if I wished to sell it to Mama or to you, since Mama is a widow and you are unmarried—no husband to claim it.”
“I know.” Jane laughed quietly. “Lydia opened it before I caught her. She tried to make the seal look as if she had not broken it, but when she was discovered she pulled it out again and read it to everyone.”
“She is becoming sly! And brazen. We must guard her more carefully, I see.”
“It is true, but I am more concerned just now with your notion of selling to one of us. Why would you do such a thing? Is it not enough that the house belongs to you?”
Elizabeth tightened her arms about her middle and lifted her shoulders. “I no longer feel that it was unjust that George Wickham did not receive his brother’s property, but I am not yet comfortable calling it my own. Perhaps if I sold it to Mama, she would not suffer in her conscience as I do. It would either be her or you.”
“You cannot think of it! You are the only one with the boldness to make the best of it. I… would not even want it.”
Elizabeth smiled warmly at her sister. “Of course! I hope that soon you shall have no need of a house. You will be far more agreeably situated.”
Jane blushed. “Mr Bingley has no serious designs, Lizzy. I shall not make myself unhappy over him.”
“Ah, you say this, but you have already done so! Fear not, for I am sure the gentleman will return this autumn and you will see much of him then.”
“Oh, do not embarrass me! Pray, let me defer thinking and speaking of him until I see that he truly has come back.”
“If you wish.”
“But Lizzy—” Jane stopped and turned seriously to her sister. “Truly, what is this business about transferring the ownership of Corbett to one of us? You are not considering it seriously, I hope.”
Elizabeth frowned. “No. The idea was upon the recommendation of one I thought to trust, but now I see that perhaps it was little more than a diversion. I suppose if I ever entertained a suitor and desired that Corbett should remain a home for our mother and sisters, I could consider it again… but I expect one marriage was enough for me. Besides—” she offered Jane a wan smile—“it is not as if I have had gentlemen beating at the door. I shall remain forever as I am and be grateful.”
“Dearest Lizzy! Do not give over the notion of your own happiness so easily. Somewhere, there is a gentleman who would count it an honour to win your regard.” She impulsively embraced her sister, and with arms laced about each other’s waists, they began walking again, each lost in her own thoughts. Some minutes later, they both stopped when another figure appeared in the road. “Lizzy, who is that woman?”
The woman appeared to be a farmer’s wife, and when she saw them, she hastened her steps with apparent intent to speak to them. “I have never seen her,” Elizabeth admitted.
The woman was not tall but walked with brisk purpose. She was carrying a basket that appeared to be too heavy for her, and when she drew near, it was difficult to judge her age. “Mrs Wickham?” she asked and dropped an immediate curtsey.
Elizabeth nodded. “I am. And you are?”
“Oh! Sakes, ma’am, I meant no disrespect. I’m Mrs Brown, and I were going to see a poor sick lad a quart’ mile up the road. I tho’ when I saw you tha’ you must be the Mrs Wickham I’ve ‘eard so much on.”
“Indeed so. Why, in that case, I have been wishing to meet you as well. What is this you say about a sick lad?” Elizabeth asked.
“Jacob’s boy,” Mrs Brown answered. “Took sick last week. ‘Tisn’t serious, no’ if I can get me draught to ‘im.”
“Are you a sort of apothecary?” Jane asked in wonder.
Mrs Brown shook her head. “Me da’ was. I’m nought but a widow wha’ knows a few remedies. I cure where I can for a few eggs or a bi’ o’ cheese, and sometimes nothin’.”
“That is very fine,” Elizabeth praised her. “I had heard nothing of you, other than you were a kind neighbour and were responsible for the rum cake my mother so fancied.”
“‘Tweren’t nothin’,” Mrs Brown answered. “I do wha’ I can, since the landlord cares nothing for his folk. A brutish lord and master, he is.”
Jane put her fingers to her lips. “Dreadful! I hope I do not know this landlord.”
“I daresay you do,” Mrs Brown replied solemnly. “Everyone for fifty miles knows Mr Darcy. But what is there to be done against such a man?”
Elizabeth was slitting her eyes and pursing her lips. “Indeed,” was her careful response. “Have you had many dealings with Mr Darcy?”
