He shook his head. “The footman said it was Mr. Darcy who ordered it.”
Her eyebrows raised high on her brow. “Was it indeed?”
She filed this new information away with all the other tidbits she had learned about the enigmatic man from Derbyshire. She was hearing so many varying accounts of him as to confuse her exceedingly, but she knew her present exhaustion would do her no good in reconciling each of his many facets.
Elizabeth bid Jamie a good night, then went in to check on Jane. A maid sat in the corner, working on some mending. At Elizabeth’s look of surprise, the girl said, “Mr. Bingley wishes someone to be available at all times, in case Miss Bennet is needing anything.”
“But when will you sleep?”
“Oh, he has hired more servants to tend to the daytime duties.”
Her heart warmed at this further evidence of Bingley’s genuine nature. If he was playing a role, he was doing a very thorough job.
While Jane’s features were still pale, with blue-tinged lips, she was sleeping soundly. Elizabeth finally felt at ease enough to fall into sleep.
∞∞∞
In the cozy drawing room of Netherfield, Elizabeth, Bingley, and Mrs. Hurst were gathered around a table set for a game of spillikins. Darcy stood by, observing the setup with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.
Bingley, ever the enthusiast, was the first to break the silence. “Darcy, you must join us for a game of spillikins. It’s quitediverting!” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with the prospect of the challenge.
Darcy raised an eyebrow, his usual composure unshaken. “Spillikins? I confess I am not acquainted with this game,” he admitted, a hint of intrigue in his voice.
Elizabeth, smiling, took it upon herself to explain. “It is quite simple, Mr. Darcy. See, here are the spillikins, a collection of small sticks, scattered on the table.”
Mrs. Hurst, gracefully picking up tweezers, added, “The aim is to remove a spillikin from the heap without disturbing any of the others. It requires a steady hand.” Her tone was light, inviting Darcy to join in the amusement.
“And how does one win this game?” Darcy inquired, his curiosity now clearly piqued.
“The person who collects the most spillikins without causing any movement among the others is declared the winner,” Bingley replied, chuckling. “It’s not as easy as it looks!”
Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled as she watched Darcy contemplate the game. “Indeed, it requires patience and a delicate touch. It is a test of dexterity,” she remarked, her tone playful yet encouraging.
Darcy finally allowed a smile to cross his face. “A delicate touch? I will leave it to you, Miss Bennet, to determine just how… delicate my touch can be.”
His dark eyes bored into hers as he spoke, and a warm tingling sensation spread from the pit of her stomach throughout her body. She glanced around, but no one else seemed to notice the deliberate emphasis with which he caressed the words.
Mrs. Hurst handed him the tweezers with a flourish. “We use these tweezers to pick up the spillikins. Here, Mr. Darcy, you may try first,” she offered, gesturing towards the scattered sticks.
Taking the tweezers in hand, Darcy leaned over the table, his concentration evident as he made his first attempt. The others watched with a mix of amusement and anticipation. He deftly reached forward and gently removed a stick from the pile.
As he slowly withdrew the spillikin, he lifted his eyes to hers once more. Her breath caught as he slid the stick out from the pile ever so slowly. She licked her lips, her mouth having gone dry, and his eyes darkened into a bottomless pit. She was falling, falling, falling…
Elizabeth sat up, gasping for breath. She looked wildly around, then realized she was in her chambers at Netherfield. The sun was only barely beginning to peek through the curtains.
It had all been a dream. Pressing her palms to her heated cheeks to cool them, she shook her head to clear away the lingering yearnings that remained.
Why on earth would she dream of something so wanton… especially about Mr. Darcy, of all people?
It was not to be borne!
Chapter 15
It was with great mortification that Elizabeth faced Darcy at breakfast a few hours later. The memory of his gaze burning into her caused warmth to flare in her cheeks, and she quickly made her way to the breakfast board to hide her blush.
After delaying over the eggs for no real purpose other than to regain her composure, she took a seat at the table. Just as she took her first bite, a servant entered with several letters on a tray, which was extended to Darcy. He leafed through the stack, took several, then placed the remainder back with the servant.
To her surprise, the salver was next brought to Elizabeth. The servant’s white-gloved hand extended the tray, and she looked down to see a folded paper, with her name in her father’s hand, lying atop two opened letters. All three were tied together with a piece of twine.
