Page 28

Elizabeth recognised Jane’s hand before she took the letter. “That was very kind of you, Mrs Lovejoy.”

“There is no kindness in letting a letter wait at an inn when one has a seat in a gig. Though the seat was less generous than I remembered, Mr Donelson.”

“It has not altered since last week, madam.” The apothecary turned to Uncle Edward. “May I examine the ankle in your chamber, sir?”

“You may, though I would prefer you to tell me first that it has healed.”

“That would make the examination a rather expensive courtesy.”

Aunt Madeline rose and took her place behind the Bath chair. Elizabeth opened the door for them, and her aunt pushed her husband, following Mr Donelson to the ground floor guest chamber. As they went, her uncle began explaining how much easier it would be to rest his ankle if everyone ceased asking him to rest it. His wife’s reply was lost round the corner.

Elizabeth turned the letter over and decided to wait for her aunt. Jane seldom wrote anything Mrs Gardiner could not hear.

Mrs Lovejoy had taken two steps to the window when Mrs Reynolds entered. She stopped, the cherries on her bonnet coming to rest a moment later.

“Mrs Lovejoy.” Mrs Reynolds gave her a correct, measured curtsy.

“Mrs Reynolds. How good to see you again.”

Elizabeth knew about their history regarding a strawberry preserve and a disagreement twenty years old that neither woman had seen fit to resolve. Mrs Lovejoy’s greeting made it sound as if she had seen the housekeeper only yesterday and found the interval too short.

Mrs Reynolds addressed Elizabeth. “I hope you have everything you require, Miss Elizabeth.”

“I do, thank you. Mrs Lovejoy has brought a letter from my sister.”

“Then you will wish to read it.” Mrs Reynolds glanced at the widow. “Perhaps you would take some tea with me, Mrs Lovejoy, while the family is occupied. My parlour is near the servants’ hall.”

The offer cost her. Elizabeth could hear it in the precision with which she pronounced tea.

Mrs Lovejoy straightened her gloves. “I should be delighted, Martha.”

Mrs Reynolds’s expression did not change, though a key made a sharp sound against the others at her waist. “This way, Honoria.”

They went out together. Elizabeth stared at Jane’s seal and hoped the tea would last at least as long as the medical examination.

Her aunt returned alone. “Edward is making a strong case for being allowed to stand. Mr Donelson has asked him to make it without moving the injured foot.” She noticed the letter. “You have waited for me?”

“I thought you would want news of the children.” Elizabeth broke the seal as they sat together. “I shall begin there, before either of us is tempted to read only the part about my mother.”

Jane had written in her usual careful hand. Rebecca was well, and the twins, Harold and Michael, were well enough to have dug a hole in the garden with the stated intention of reaching China. Their progress had been interrupted by a gardener whose views on his turnips differed from theirs.

“The gardener prevented an expedition and saved his turnips. I shall thank him when we return,” Mrs Gardiner said.

“She says Mary has been helping Rebecca with her letters.” Elizabeth turned the page. “At least one of the three is making progress to a sensible destination.”

The next line brought her to a halt.

“Lizzy?”

“It is about Jane.” Elizabeth drew her feet beneath her chair and began reading. “The day we left Longbourn, Mr Bingley came to call.”

Mrs Gardiner put down her teacup.

“He has returned to Netherfield!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “He spoke to Papa first, and then to Jane. He asked her permission to court her.”

She read on. Jane described an awkward beginning, an apology for his absence, and an hour’s conversation that had become easier once both of them stopped trying to account for every month apart. Mr Bingley had told her he meant to remain at Netherfield. Jane was happy. She wrote the word plainly, without trying to lessen it for the sake of modesty, and Elizabeth had to stop a moment before continuing.

Mamma is in raptures. She has discovered no fewer than three neighbours who ought to be told, despite Papa’s reminder that Mr Bingley has asked only to court me. I hope you will not imagine that I am joining her in making plans, dear Lizzy. I am simply glad he came.