Elizabeth made a face. “I would much prefer the company of my beloved sister.”
“And your beloved sister would enjoy your company as well, but we do not want the Bingleys to think us ill-bred.”
“Miss Bingley already thinks we are the barbarians at Rome’s gate.”
“Then let us not give her any more reason to think so. Wear that blossom-coloured gown that Mama sent.”
“You must be feeling quite a bit better if you are up to managing my wardrobe selections.”
“I am, so beware!” Jane began to laugh, which turned into a hacking cough.
“But not yet entirely better,” Elizabeth said, smoothing her sister’s hair. “I will ask Miss Bingley to have a tray sent up for you.”
Elizabeth went to her room. After surveying her choices, she took Jane’s advice. The blossom gown was indeed very becoming on her, being a light pink first seen inLa Belle Assemblethreeyears earlier. Perhaps Mr. Darcy would – and here Elizabeth stopped herself. She would not think about Mr. Darcy.
As she made her way downstairs to the drawing room, she heard a new voice. It was a powerful voice, certainly not Mr. Bingley’s or Mr. Hurst’s, and equally certainly not the serious tones of Mr. Darcy. When she entered the room, the gentlemen rose and bowed, and the newcomer was presented to her.
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, a cousin of Mr. Darcy’s, matched the voice perfectly. He was a large, heavily muscled man, and the voice was certainly appropriate for a Colonel. She could imagine that voice barking out orders that would be obeyed immediately! She felt instinctively that she would like him.
Miss Bingley was on a sofa beside Mr. Darcy, and the Colonel was in a chair near the fire. Elizabeth took a chair between Mr. Darcy and the Colonel. “Were you very lately in battle, Colonel?” she asked.
He made a face. “Most recently, I am sorry to say, I was involved in the Battle of Albuera.”
Elizabeth’s face was sympathetic. “A great loss of life on both sides and no clear benefit gained.”
“Precisely. You follow war news, Miss Elizabeth?”
“I do not pretend to understand all that I read, but I sit with my father’s maps and make an effort to do so. I think it the responsibility of those of us here at home to at least attempt to comprehend the terrible risks being taken by our men.”
Miss Bingley scoffed at that, causing the Colonel to turn to her. “You do not agree, Miss Bingley?”
“Of course not. Our men want ladies to keep their minds sweet and gentle, and not be burdened with images of bloodshed.”
“Do you think all men feel that way, Miss Bingley?”
“All true gentlemen, of course.”
Mrs. Hurst broke her customary silence to say, “Sister, I think we cannot categorize all gentlemen as the same, can we?”
“On matters such as these, I think we can safely do so,” Miss Bingley insisted.
Mr. Bingley interrupted what was becoming a tense conversation. “How is your sister, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Her fever is quite gone, though her cough is still troublesome. Miss Bingley, might I trouble you to have a supper tray sent to her? She is finally regaining some appetite.”
Miss Bingley nodded, regally, and rang a bell; a maid appeared immediately and Miss Bingley made the request for Jane’s supper tray.
Dinner was then announced, and everyone rose. Miss Bingley clutched Mr. Darcy’s arm, very evidently insistent on having him lead her into dinner. Mr. Bingley offered his arm to Mrs. Hurst. The Colonel offered his arm to Elizabeth, and she took it with a smile. It turned out that she was seated between the Colonel and Mr. Hurst; as Mr. Hurst had no conversation at all, she was glad to have the Colonel on her other side.
He was, as she had suspected, an intelligent gentleman. She was very interested in learning more about the war and army life, and he was able to speak knowledgeably on those subjects. She asked him why he went into the army, and he replied, “My father is the Earl of Matlock, but I am a second son, Miss Elizabeth. As you must know, we second sons must make our own way in the world.”
“Of course, but you chose the army over, say, the law or the church.”
“I am an active man, Miss Elizabeth. I could not imagine spending my life chained to a desk and reading dusty tomes, no matter whether those tomes be of law or religion.”
Elizabeth laughed, saying she understood completely. “I am an active person as well; my mother used to despair of mywardrobe, as I was forever climbing trees and taking long walks, thereby ruining my gowns and shoes.”
“You no longer climb trees, I take it?’
