“She loosed her first arrow directly into our mother’s favorite rosebush.”
Anne made a small sound.
“Her second struck the laundry line.”
A pause.
“The third—mercifully—landed in the ground. Lydia declared it proof of improvement and wished to celebrate.”
Anne let out a small, surprised sound. Not quite a laugh, but close. Encouraged, Elizabeth continued, saying, “Another time, at the age of eight, she decided she wished to learn how to march like the militia.”
Anne’s eyebrows shot up her forehead.
“She practiced in the garden for an entire afternoon, giving herself orders at the top of her voice and attempting to keep step with imaginary drums.”
Elizabeth’s lips curved. “She was quite proud of herself—until she turned too sharply and marched directly into the fishpond.”
Anne let out a small, surprised sound—
Not quite a laugh.
But very near.
Pleased, Elizabeth continued to share more of her family: small, harmless things. Kitty’s tendency to follow Lydia into mischief, Jane’s quiet steadiness, Mary’s seriousness—though she only briefly touched on the middle sister.
It was still painful to remember her betrayal.
Elizabeth kept her tone even, her manner unhurried, allowing the conversation to rise and fall without pressing it.
Time passed quickly, and soon the door opened to admit a woman in a black dress, her manner composed and attentive.
“My apologies for interrupting, Mrs. Darcy,” she said, “but I am Mrs. Jenkinson, Mrs. Fitzwilliam’s companion. It has been ten minutes.”
Elizabeth rose at once.
“Then I shall take my leave,” she said, her tone easy, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Anne looked up sharply.
“No—” she said, the word escaping before she could seem to stop it.
Elizabeth paused in surprise. It was the first word Anne had spoken since they initially greeted one another.
Mrs. Jenkinson stepped forward slightly. “Miss Anne, I do not think—”
“It is quite alright,” Elizabeth interrupted. “I would much rather end on a positive note, rather than over-do things and have you rejoice at my leaving.”
Anne hesitated.
Elizabeth smiled. “May I come again tomorrow?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“And the day after that,” Elizabeth added lightly, “if you wish it.”
Anne gave the faintest nod.
