“A great difference,” he said mildly. “Though I will admit I was surprised by some of the behavior I witnessed among certain militia officers as I rode through the village. Not all seem to hold to gentlemanly standards, apparently.”
Elizabeth caught the faint narrowing of her mother’s eyes and seized the moment to assist. “Indeed, Mama,” she said evenly, “do you not recall what occurred at Aunt Philips’s card party?”
She briefly summarized the event to the colonel, who shook his head in disgust. “Disgraceful! I am afraid I have seen too many situations where more than one young lady was taken in by the charm of a red coat, only to discover—too late—that it masked intentions that were less than honorable.” He raised an eyebrow and glanced meaningfully at one side of the room.
Mrs. Bennet followed his gaze towards her two youngest daughters, who were giggling together as they batted their eyes and cast coy looks in the colonel’s direction. Her brow furrowed, and genuine concern crossed her face.
Perhaps she will listen to the son of an earl, Elizabeth thought hopefully.
The moment passed, however, as Mrs. Bennet—not one to ponder too deeply for too long—looked around the room. “But where is Mr. Bingley? Did he not accompany you?”
Jane’s expression flickered with nervous anticipation. “He is with Papa.”
“With your father?” Mrs. Bennet’s voice leaped an octave. “Oh—oh my! Do you think—? Could it be—?”
Before she could gather herself into full effusion, the door opened again and Mr. Bennet entered the room, Bingley just behind him, cheeks slightly flushed but smiling.
Mr. Bennet raised an eyebrow at the assembled company. “Well, I have news that should surprise no one: Mr. Bingley has requested my permission to court Jane, and I have given it.”
The room erupted.
Kitty squealed, Lydia shrieked something unintelligible, and Mrs. Bennet let out a delighted cry. “Oh! My dear Jane, how wonderful! I knew all along he would fall in love with you as soon as he saw your beauty.”
Jane looked ready to sink through the floor, her eyes wide and cheeks positively crimson. Elizabeth could not help but grin broadly at her sister’s mortified joy.
The colonel gaped a little before turning to Darcy, who was still staring at the scene as though thunderstruck. “Well,” the colonel murmured, “your friend does not waste time.”
Darcy, still recovering, gave a small shake of his head and the faintest smile. “No,” he said softly, “he knows what he wants.”
Elizabeth caught the look Darcy gave her as he spoke—quick, searching, and filled with meaning—and felt her own cheeks warm.
Outside, the wind howled and the gray clouds thickened. But inside the drawing room, it was all warmth and laughter and love beginning to take root.
And for a brief, precious moment, Elizabeth allowed herself to forget her fears, basking in the joy of family.
∞∞∞
That evening, as the Bennet women withdrew from dinner to the parlor to discuss Jane’s courtship yet again, Elizabeth took advantage of the free time and went upstairs to check on Benjamin.
That evening, as the Bennet women withdrew from dinner to the parlor to discuss Jane’s courtship yet again, Elizabeth took advantage of the free time and went upstairs to check on Benjamin.
The nursery was quiet save for the gentle crackle of the fire and the rhythmic ticking of the mantel clock. The nurse, seated in the corner with her mending, looked up and smiled as Elizabethentered. Benjamin was sleeping soundly in the cradle near the hearth, his tiny hand curled against his cheek, the blanket rising and falling with each soft breath.
Elizabeth exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing as she stepped closer. She knelt beside the cradle, brushing a curl from his forehead, and let herself simply exist there for a moment, still and watchful.
So much had changed. So quickly.
A day ago, he had simply been Benjamin—an abandoned babe, a tragic casualty of the fire, folded lovingly into the Gardiner family without question. Now, he was something else. A symbol. A survivor. Possibly a target.
What does that make me?she wondered bitterly.A governess? A guardian? A pawn?
She looked at his sleeping face and knew one thing with absolute certainty:Whatever else he is to the world, he is my responsibility for the moment.
Her fingers curled against the edge of the cradle.What if there are more men like Smithson? What if someone else tries to take him?
Her heart gave a thud of panic before she tamped it down.
No. He is safe here. With us. With me.
