Page 35 of The Lost Prophecy

“Danger is not always considerate enough to observe distance.”

The warning carried a weight the journey did not warrant. Elizabeth searched his face for the meaning concealed beneath it, but the bowl chose that moment to strike him in the chest.

Mr Darcy lowered his eyes. “Your influence, Miss Elizabeth, has not improved its manners.”

“You explained not long ago that we may answer only for our own conduct. I refuse responsibility for the character of your silver.”

“I begin to regret giving you principles that may be used against me,” he said with a crooked smile.

“That is the danger of possessing any.”

The bowl knocked against his coat again. Mr Darcy caught it before it could twist free, while Elizabeth stepped backwards to Jane’s chamber.

“I should finish preparing my sister.”

“Miss Elizabeth.”

She paused, waiting. He seemed hesitant, in the most adorable way. Have I gone mad? she thought, although with everything she had witnessed lately, madness was a very distinct possibility.

His hands stilled around the bowl. “You will be missed.”

There was no humour in the words. Elizabeth’s heartbeat stumbled, then recovered with enough force to betray her to anyone standing nearby.

“I shall miss our conversations,” she admitted.

Mr Darcy held her gaze. “Then I hope we shall continue them.”

Elizabeth inclined her head and returned along the corridor. She entered Jane’s chamber smiling inexplicably, which was unfortunate because Jane noticed at once. But before her sister could enquire, the sound of a carriage reached them from below.

Mr Bennet had arrived.

Mrs Nicholls helped Jane into her pelisse and accompanied them downstairs. Their father waited in the entrance hall with Mr Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst, and Mr Darcy. Mr Hurst stood near the drawing room door, keeping a prudent distance from every Bennet.

Mr Bennet’s dry expression softened when Jane reached the final step. He took her hand, examined her complexion, and offered his arm.

“You appear remarkably well for a young woman whose mother assured me not three days ago that she hovered between life and death.”

“Mamma was anxious.”

“Your mother considers moderation dangerous to the nerves.”

He placed Jane’s hand on his arm, then turned to their hosts. His gratitude contained neither Mrs Bennet’s effusions, nor any suggestion that Netherfield had done less than its duty.

“You have taken excellent care of my daughters,” he told Mr Bingley. “I sent one to dine and received word that you intended to retain two. I am relieved to discover that both have survived your hospitality.”

Mr Bingley stood close enough to Jane to assist her, but not close enough to touch. “Miss Bennet must continue to rest, sir. Mr Jones was very clear on that point.”

“I shall attempt to prevent her from ploughing the eastern field this afternoon, you may rest assured.”

Jane lowered her face, while Elizabeth pressed her lips together.

Mr Bingley followed them to the front door. “You will permit me to call at Longbourn and enquire after her?”

“Certainly.” Mr Bennet paused while a footman opened the door.

“This afternoon, perhaps?” Mr Bingley’s gaze remained on Jane. “At two?”

Mr Bennet consulted the hall clock. “We expect to reach Longbourn shortly before noon. You may find that her condition has altered very little during so considerable an interval.”