Page 38 of The Engagement at Longbourn

Elizabeth laughed aloud when she read that sentence.

Darcy looked up from across the parlour. “What has she written?”

“Nothing you would approve.”

“Then Richard has influenced her.”

“Your sister possesses wit of her own, sir.”

“I know.”

His quiet pride warmed something in Elizabeth.

She answered.

The correspondence grew.

Georgiana wrote of music, Pemberley, London, and her frustration at being excluded from Hertfordshire.

Elizabeth wrote of Longbourn, the snow, Lydia’s campaign to persuade Cook that mince pies were suitable for breakfast, and Darcy’s slow progress from bed to chair. She did not mention Wickham.

Neither did Georgiana.

But the shadow of him remained between the lines.

One evening Darcy found Elizabeth reading a letter by the drawing-room window after everyone else had gone to dress for dinner.

“She likes you,” he said.

Elizabeth folded the page. “I like her.”

“You have not met.”

“I liked you before I knew you.”

Darcy looked startled.

Elizabeth smiled wickedly. “For perhaps seven minutes at the assembly. Then you spoke.”

He gave her a long look. “Cruel.”

“You survive.”

“I have survived a compound fracture. I am prepared for you.”

“Such confidence.”

He looked toward the letter. “She asks again to come.”

“Yes.”

“I still think it unsafe.”

Elizabeth’s teasing faded. “Wickham is confined.”

“For now.”

“Then invite her when Colonel Fitzwilliam is here, your uncle’s household is nearby, and every person in Meryton knows Wickham’s debts. He has less freedom than he did.”