“With so many officers about, we will be perfectly safe,” Kitty added.
“Very well,” Mr. Bennet said heavily. “But you are to stay with your mother and remain out of trouble.”
Lydia gave a squeal of delight and darted off to prepare, dragging Kitty behind her.
Elizabeth caught her father’s eye as he stood, and he gave her a small, tired smile.
“I will find out what I can, Lizzy,” he said quietly. “And if it truly is the end of the entail… we shall see what comes next.”
She nodded, unable to find the words to respond, unease settling deep within her chest. The news of Mr. Collins’s death had stunned them all—but somewhere deep inside, Elizabeth could not help but wonder if the fire was done with them yet.
“Lizzy, come!”
Elizabeth looked up, startled. Mrs. Bennet was standing with her hands on her hips, staring down at her. “You had best getdressed and come to the village with us to meet the officers. Lord knows there is nothing for you here at Longbourn.”
“But Benjamin—”
“Now, Elizabeth.”
Mrs. Bennet’s tone brooked no room for refusal. Elizabeth sighed and rose from her chair.I just hope we do not see Mr. Smithson while there.
Chapter 13
Elizabeth stepped down from the Bennets’ carriage and looked around with some unease. Meryton, though never what one would call sleepy, was usually a neat and orderly little town—a market square with tidy shops and a few elegant homes, its modest bustle constrained by its size and genteel rhythm.
But now, the town was completely different.
It was crowded, almost claustrophobically so. The market square teemed with movement—not just shopkeepers and customers, but ragged strangers leaning against buildings, children darting between carts, and more red-coated soldiers than Elizabeth had ever seen assembled in one place.
“I had not expected such a… crowd,” she murmured, eyes scanning the square. A ragged man sat slumped on the steps ofthe butcher’s, his boots worn through, while a woman with a wrapped infant bargained rather too loudly for a loaf of bread.
“It is all the people from London,” Kitty whispered, catching her arm. “Aunt Phillips said many came here when the fires started.”
Elizabeth nodded slowly, but she could not shake the feeling that the crowd was not merely full—it was frayed. Edges rubbed raw. People muttered, soldiers shouted orders, and the energy in the air was tightly wound, like a storm that had not yet broken.
“I do not like this,” she said under her breath, glancing at Lydia, who was peering eagerly across the street at the haberdashery.
“There are officers,” Lydia said excitedly. “Look! Over there—four of them!”
“Yes, and more behind them,” Kitty chimed in. “Do you suppose the colonel is with them?”
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had already disappeared into the Philips’ front door, so Elizabeth sighed and gestured toward the shop. “Fine. But only the haberdashery, and only for a moment. We will be back here before Papa returns.”
The three of them made their way across the street, carefully navigating between wagons and carts. But just as they reached the center of the lane, a cry went up from a driver trying to steady a panicked horse.
“Watch out!”
A crate flew from the back of a wagon with a loud crash, and the startled horse reared. Lydia, caught mid-step, froze like a frightened rabbit in the road.
A flash of red surged into view—an officer’s coat—and before Elizabeth could react, the man had swept forward and pushedLydia out of the way. The crate landed inches from where she had been standing, scattering its contents across the muddy street.
“Lydia!” Elizabeth and Kitty rushed forward, helping her up from the cobbles. She was unhurt, though visibly shaken.
“I—I am all right,” she gasped, brushing dust from her skirts.
“Are you certain?” the officer asked, steadying her by the elbow. He had a warm voice and a firm grip, and when Elizabeth turned to thank him, she paused. He was handsome—impossibly so. With a trim figure, a charming smile, and eyes the exact shade of autumn honey, he looked like the sort of man right out of the gothic novels Lydia and Kitty insisted on reading aloud in the evenings.
“I—I think so,” Lydia stammered, blinking rapidly and flushing at his attention.
