They stood there for a moment, the air between them oddly charged, before Darcy abruptly turned toward the shelves. “If you are looking for something to read, I might be able to offer you better options than what Bingley keeps here. His collection is… lacking.”
Elizabeth turned back toward the shelves, brushing her fingers along the spines of the books. “You say there is not much of a selection?”
“Unfortunately, no. Bingley had Netherfield let in something of a rush and had little time to stock the library to his satisfaction.”
“A pity,” Elizabeth mused. “A house without books is a dreadful thing.”
“Indeed,” Darcy agreed. He hesitated for a brief moment before adding, “However, I do have a book in my own collection that might interest you.”
Elizabeth turned back to him, curiosity lighting her features. “Do you?”
He nodded and moved toward the corner of the room, where a small table held a few volumes. Selecting one, he returned and held it out to her.
She took it carefully, her fingers brushing his as she examined the title. “The Minstrelby James Beattie.” She glanced up at him, surprised. “I have read some of this before.”
“If you do not mind annotations, I have made a few notes in the margins. It is a favorite of mine.”
Elizabeth took the book with curiosity, running her fingers along the cover. It was well-worn but well-loved, and the weight of the gesture was not lost on her. “I shall take great care with it,” she promised.
“I do not doubt it.”
Their eyes met again, and Elizabeth’s stomach gave an odd little flip. She quickly glanced down at the book and clasped it a little tighter. “Well,” she said lightly, “I shall leave you to your silence, then, and take myself off to read.”
He inclined his head. “Enjoy it, Miss Elizabeth.”
She smirked. “As I would any treasured friend.”
With that, she turned and left the library, making her way upstairs with the book tucked close. Yet as she went, she could not stop herself from dwelling on the encounter.
For the rest of the afternoon, her mind was full of Mr. Darcy.
Chapter 10
The following day passed in much the same way as the one before, with Elizabeth doing her best to entertain Jane and alleviate her boredom. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst joined them for a time in the afternoon, and Elizabeth almost began to like them when she saw how much affection and solicitude they showed Jane.
The two ladies were in possession of considerable powers of conversation, and they endeavored to make themselves agreeable to the bed-ridden Miss Bennet. Elizabeth was surprised at how well they could describe an entertainment with accuracy and relate an anecdote with humor and laughter.
When the dinner bell rang, Jane begged to be allowed to come downstairs after the meal. Upon promising faithfully that she would keep her injured ankle elevated in the parlor and not attempt to walk, she was given reluctant permission.
“We shall send a footman to carry you down,” Miss Bingley promised.
Elizabeth, remembering Bingley’s avowal to be the one to carry Jane, simply bit her lip, resolving to hint at the matter when the gentleman was present at dinner.
The opportunity arrived upon completion of the meal. As Elizabeth rose from her seat, she turned to her hostess. “Miss Bingley, Jane is still desirous of coming downstairs for the evening. Could you please assign a footman to attend her?”
Before Miss Bingley could respond, Bingley’s head snapped up, his easygoing demeanor sharpening into resolve. “A footman? Nonsense! I will go myself.”
Miss Bingley let out a dramatic gasp. “Charles, you cannot be serious! You cannot mean to enter her bedchamber—”
Bingley waved off her protest. “Miss Bennet’s sister will go with her, as will you and Louisa, if you would like. There could be no impropriety in assisting an injured friend, especially to ensure that she receives only the most careful of conveyance.”
Elizabeth bit back a smile as Miss Bingley’s mouth snapped shut in frustration. Mrs. Hurst merely sighed and exchanged a look with her sister, but neither argued further.
Darcy, who had been silent throughout the exchange, lifted his wineglass to his lips. Elizabeth’s eyes flicked to him, expecting to find some disapproving expression, but instead, his gaze was unreadable—though she thought she caught the faintest twitch of amusement.
Miss Bingley, clearly realizing that further protest would be futile, pursed her lips. “Well, if you insist, brother,” she said with a haughty sniff. “Do try to be careful.”
Bingley grinned and clapped his hands together. “Excellent! I shall collect Miss Bennet at once.” With that, he strode from the room, his enthusiasm evident.
