Page 30 of The Engagement at Longbourn

Lady Catherine swept out.

The front door closed.

Silence.

Then Lydia burst from behind the parlour door. “La! Is she always like that?”

Richard laughed until he had to sit down.

Upstairs, Darcy heard the noise and asked what had happened.

Elizabeth told him. When she reached the part about Mrs. Bennet reminding Lady Catherine whose house she stood in.

Darcy stared. “Your mother said that?”

“She did.”

A reluctant smile appeared. “I owe Mrs. Bennet an apology.”

“For what?”

“Several private judgments.”

Elizabeth sat beside the bed. “Be careful, Mr. Darcy. At this rate you may become humble.”

He looked at her with grave attention. “Would you dislike me less?” The question was quiet enough to remove the joke.

Elizabeth’s smile faded. “I already do.”

Darcy’s eyes changed. She immediately looked toward the window.

Neither mentioned it again.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Education of Fitzwilliam Darcy

Darcy had never before spent three consecutive weeks in a house where the breakfast table could contain five separate conversations, one argument about a bonnet, a theological observation, a complaint about chimney smoke, and a discussion of turnips at the same time.

At Pemberley breakfast was peaceful. At Darcy House breakfast was ordered. At Longbourn breakfast was alive. He was carried downstairs for the first time on the twenty-third day after his accident. Dr. Morrison permitted it only after repeated assurances that Darcy would be moved in a specially constructed chair and his leg kept elevated. Mr. Bennet’s carpenter had adapted a stout armchair with a long padded support.

Richard and two footmen managed the stairs while Darcy endured the humiliation with the expression of a martyr being taken to execution.

Lydia waited at the bottom. “La, Mr. Darcy, you look like a king in a procession.”

“I feel like a sofa.”

Lydia laughed so loudly that even Darcy smiled.

Mrs. Bennet had ordered the small parlour rearranged because it received better afternoon sun. A table was placed near Darcy’s chair for books and tea. A cushion appeared beneath his elbow. Another somehow appeared behind his back.

“I do not require this many cushions,” he said.

“You do if you are to sit there three hours,” Mrs. Bennet replied. “Men always think comfort a sign of weakness until they are cross from being uncomfortable. Mr. Bennet is the same.”

From the library came Mr. Bennet’s voice. “I heard that.”

“You were intended to!”