Jane’s hand stilled. "He… oh my… that is most… When?"
"In the hall. Yesterday evening."
Elizabeth hesitated. "And also today at the farm."
Jane let out a small gasp as considered this with wide eyes. "At the farm?"
"Behind a building," Elizabeth said. "While Mr Bingley was directing agricultural improvements."
Jane’s mouth curved faintly. "I see. And were these kisses unwelcome? Do you have tender feelings towards him?"
"I do not," Elizabeth replied rather too quickly. "Or at least, I do not know what to make of it."
"And he has spoken to you?" Jane asked.
"Yes." Elizabeth drew a breath. "We have had some very confusing conversations."
Jane looked at her fully now. "And your feelings for him?"
"Oh Jane, I am so confused."
Jane took her hand. "Do you care for him?"
Elizabeth stared at her hands. "I think I might. Which is extremely inconvenient."
Jane’s expression softened. "It may be difficult, but it is not, I think, the very worst place to begin."
Elizabeth let out a quiet, frustrated laugh. "He speaks of honour and obligation. And oh, I am not the kind of woman he imagined, Jane. Not at all. I must put an end to it."
"That sounds like a man who is not entirely settled in his own mind," Jane said.
"That is precisely it," Elizabeth replied. "He is certain and uncertain at once, and I do not know which part of him I am meant to answer."
Jane smiled a little. "Perhaps you need not decide immediately."
"I do not trust myself to decide at all," Elizabeth said. "Not while everything feels altered."
Jane squeezed her hand. "Then you must give yourself time until it feels less so."
Below, Mrs Makepeace’s voice carried faintly upward.
"If Mr Bingley wishes to explain drainage over tea, he may do so in no more than three sentences. I have found that most subjects benefit from limits."
Elizabeth laughed despite herself. "I would give a great deal for my chief concern to be drainage."
Jane laughed softly. "Come, dearest. You may yet survive the afternoon."
Chapter Fourteen
Darcy had changed his coat, but his thoughts remained firmly fixed on Miss Elizabeth Bennet, which proved rather more difficult to remedy.
When he entered the parlour, Georgiana was seated beside Mrs Bennet, listening and smiling quietly.
"It is not that yellow is unkind," Mrs Bennet was saying. "Only that it must be approached with confidence. A yellow on a timid woman is a dreadful thing."
"I had not thought of colours in that way," Georgiana said.
"My dear, we must wear our colours with confidence. Never forget that!"
