Elizabeth had protested that her imagination was perfectly under control.
Mrs. Bennet had smiled in a manner that suggested she believed no such thing.
Mr. Wilson continued to call. His attentions remained proper, thoughtful, and increasingly restrained. He no longer pressedfor solitary walks at every opportunity, but he found occasions to place himself near her, to ask after her opinions, and to include her in discussions where her intelligence might engage him honestly. She liked him. She respected him. There were moments when she thought she might, with time, grow content as his wife.
Then Darcy would arrive.
He never made a spectacle of himself. He brought books for Mary, papers for Mr. Bennet, estate maps for Bingley, and every conceivable excuse for appearing at Longbourn more often than any gentleman with a leased estate and numerous obligations ought to have managed. He listened when she spoke. He sought her out during crowded rooms without making the effort appear obvious. If she laughed, his eyes warmed in a way that perturbed her more than any polished compliment.
He had not proposed, and that fact remained at the center of every hopeful thought. And so Elizabeth persisted in behaving sensibly, which meant receiving one gentleman while wondering whether another would ever find courage enough to speak plainly.
On the morning everything changed, Longbourn buzzed with the usual anticipation that accompanied a call from Netherfield. Jane and Mr. Bingley’s wedding drew nearer, and scarcely a week passed without some discussion of flowers, settlements, guest lists, or the alarming quantity of cake Mrs. Bennet considered indispensable.
Elizabeth had just left her chamber and descended the stairs when she glimpsed Thomas and Toby huddled beneath the front hall window with Lydia between them.
The three heads bent close together while Lydia held a folded note between them. Thomas spoke with intense seriousness, and Toby nodded as though the matter before them carried national importance.
Elizabeth paused on the stair.
The conspirators looked up simultaneously.
For one instant all three stared.
Then Lydia tucked the note into her sleeve and rose with astonishing speed.
“Good morning, Lizzy.”
The twins offered matching smiles.
No expression in nature inspired less confidence.
“What are you plotting?”
“Nothing,” Toby said.
“A family matter,” Thomas added.
Lydia linked her arm through Elizabeth’s. “You look very pretty today.”
That was almost as suspicious as the secret conference itself.
Before Elizabeth could pursue the matter further, Thomas stepped directly into her path.
“Lizzy, Papa would like to see you in the library.”
Elizabeth blinked. “Papa?”
Thomas nodded with impressive gravity. “Directly.”
She glanced toward the drawing room. Voices drifted into the hall. Mr. Bingley’s cheerful tone was unmistakable, as was Jane’s softer reply. Darcy had come with him; she knew it before she saw him. Some instinct had begun to recognize his presence even at a distance.
“Did Papa say what he wanted?”
“No,” Toby answered.
“Only that it was important.”
Lydia gave her a little push. “You had best not keep him waiting.”
