With a sigh, she set her legs to moving, taking her away from the now empty bit of farmland in which she stood. After all, with Fitzwilliam gone, no reason existed to stay. Nothing more than the memory of his presence, and she would carry that back to Longbourn with her.
And what a lovely day for a walk. Yes, clouds made a low ceiling in the sky, but how the varying shades of cream and gray mingled, hinting at light above, held quiet beauty. As did the sweep of limbs, half-laden still with colorful leaves. Would they gleam more brightly if they saw the sun? Certainly, but even without that great orb to warm them, the glow of Fitzwilliam’s approval, of his happiness and relief at seeing his young cousin improve, gave a cheerful brightness to all Elizabeth saw. She could not help but smile as she walked, and that smile remained even as she reentered Longbourn, via a back door that let her into the scullery off the kitchen.
“Where have you been?” Mary asked sharply.
Elizabeth blinked, for even the sunless day without was brighter than the little room. Her eyes adjusted until she could see her sister’s frown. “Out walking.”
“So late? Everyone is already at the breakfast table.”
“Is it important that I dine at precisely the same hour as everyone else?” Elizabeth asked, making a show of removing her bonnet. “I was not aware Mama had instituted a rule.”
“There is no rule, as you well know.”
Setting her bonnet on the little bench in the corner, Elizabeth started on her cloak. “If there is no rule, then I am not late.”
“I saw the smile on your face when you entered.”
Elizabeth dropped her cloak beside her bonnet. She bent to work the laces of a boot, hiding her face from Mary as she grimaced. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You were smiling.”
“It is a lovely morning.”
Mary snorted. “It is cloudy and cold.”
“The perfect temperature for a brisk walk. You know I enjoy walking quickly.”
“You must have walked a great way to be out so late and walking quickly.”
Must Mary be so tenacious? “I suppose I must have.”
“Where did you walk?”
“Netherfield Park’s lands.”
“You went to spy on Mr. Bingley and his guests?” Mary’s voice held equal parts outrage and condemnation.
“Certainly not. I went nowhere near the manor house.”
That met with silence. Working on the laces of her other boot, Elizabeth grinned.
“Well,” Mary finally huffed. “You should not walk there. Not now that Mr. Bingley has let the place.”
“I will keep your advice in mind.”
Mary huffed again, likely aware that was Elizabeth’s polite way of saying she didn’t care what Mary thought of her behavior. “I am going to have my breakfast. I will tell Mama you will be in soon.”
“She sent you looking for me?” Elizabeth asked, a shock of alarm going through her. It was one thing for Mary to have noticed she was late for breakfast, but Elizabeth did not need her mother’s attention fixed on her.
“No, but I will tell her regardless.” Her mouth pressed into a thin line, Mary strode from the scullery.
Elizabeth raised her gaze skyward in silent supplication. She could only hope that, as usual, Mrs. Bennet would ignore her middle daughter.
Chapter Fourteen
Richard could feel Darcy’s anger radiating from the other side of the carriage like a banked fire. Seated between them, Georgiana seemed not to notice. She used the afternoon light to study the new sheet music Miss Mary had pressed on her as they were departing Longbourn. Richard had not joined his cousins on their first call there but gathered some sort of rivalry had sprung up between Georgiana and the middle Bennet sister. Richard approved, as the competition appeared to spur Georgiana into forgetting her misery. At least for the moment.
Across from them, Miss Bingley prattled on about how shabby Mrs. Bennet’s furniture was, and how out of date were the gowns the Bennet women wore. Beside her, Bingley, who’d spent the entire call whispering with Miss Bennet, seemed content to gaze across the carriage, starry-eyed. As Darcy trained his glower out the window, Richard could only assume the inattention of their companions made him the recipient of Miss Bingley’s words.
