Page 85 of Mr. Darcy’s Diamonds

Once she was satisfied that Mr. Wickham would not try to see her in again, Elizabeth’s days settled back into her familiar routine. She continued to paint dark, wet, gloomy scenes, but she balanced this pursuit with others. Rejoining the family group, she resumed playing the instrument and teaching her cousins new songs, and she spoke cheerfully with her aunt and uncle as she sewed. She could tell by the looks they gave her and each other that they did not always believe her liveliness was unfeigned, but they let her deal with her feelings on her own terms. Elizabeth knew they would listen to anything she chose to tell them and would offer advice if she asked, but they had never intruded on her more than necessary.

A week after her uncle had declared her safe from Mr. Wickham, she sat downstairs again with her aunt, sewing for the hospital. Mrs. Legg had told her that morning of a particular need for nightshirts for the older boys.

“We have received several invitations for this week, Lizzy. Would you like to attend a ball or card party with me?”

“Oh, thank you, Aunt. I…I think…are the invitations from friends we know well?”

“Hmm.” Aunt Gardiner sifted through a stack of cards. “Mrs. Harte is hosting a dinner, but that is not until next Monday.”

“Priscilla’s mother? Do you know whether Priscilla and her husband are to be there?” Elizabeth felt a spark of her old self coming back to life at the possibility of seeing her friend.

“I have not heard. Shall I call on her this week to discover her news?”

“Only if it is convenient. I would be interested to see Mrs. Harte, either way, and I will keep my anticipation in check until I know whether my friend will be in town.”

They discussed other cards and people, but Elizabeth failed to see a purpose in it all. She could make more friends, but they would marry and leave London as the rest had done. She could not allow any more men to court her, but dashing their hopes with the truth before she could raise them would only cost her more friends. And what of her own hopes? What if a man held her interest again? She could not allow that to happen.

“I may go out some this year, but I will not accept any calls from suitors.”

“Given your Uncle Bennet’s insistence that you do not marry for two more years, I do understand. Your Aunt Bennet, however, would be livid if she knew your current opinions.”

Elizabeth laughed. “She would be. Jane confessed her mother had hoped I would marry two years ago. Unfortunately for her, I have always put far higher stock in my uncle’s wishes.”

“Only natural, my dear. But will you reduce your service to the Foundling Hospital this Season?”

“I see no reason for that. Unless you do not wish me to take the carriage and horses out so often?”

“No, no. Your uncle and I do not mind that at all. I do have a card here, though, for a morning musical meeting on Wednesday.”

“We can go if you wish. Wednesdays and Fridays are not my hospital days. And I can alter my schedule whenever you need, as always.”

“Very well. We will plan for the musical meeting in two days and the dinner at Mrs. Harte’s home on Monday. Then little more than a fortnight after that, it will be your birthday. Shall we host a dinner?”

Elizabeth had begun to feel better about slowly going out again, but the apprehension returned with her aunt’s suggestion.

“A family party will suffice.”

Once her aunt accepted her reply without argument, Elizabeth could relax again.

“Oh, here is one, Lizzy. I do not know what you will think of it…”

“What is it, Aunt?” Why was her aunt nervous to tell her about the invitation?

“Your uncle and I, and you, are invited to dine next Thursday, at Darcy House.”

Elizabeth’s heart sped.

“Darcy House?”

“Mr. Darcy indicates he has also invited Mr. Bingley but that none of their sisters will be present. He writes that even if we cannot all attend, those who can will be welcome. It is surprising he would invite us, but your uncle did say he was pleased with their conversation last week.”

Elizabeth placed her hand on her stomach and stood.

“Please excuse me.”

“Of course. We need not reply yet.”

Elizabeth did not give her aunt a response because she did not have one. She was at once astonished, excited, terrified, and confused. Making her way to the attic, she began to sort through her emotions while scrubbing brushes that were already clean.