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“Yes, it was rather invigorating,” said Elizabeth. She unwound her scarf and crossed to where Jane was sitting to tell her about the view, and was aware without looking that Miss Bingley’s eyes followed her across the room.

She sat with Jane and talked about the park, and was warm, and was comfortable, and thought about nothing of significance with a determination she recognised, even as she practised it, as its own kind of answer.

Chapter Thirteen

Much as she enjoyed walking, Elizabeth found herself leaving Longbourn one morning with a rather rueful expression. The errand to Meryton in which she was presently engaged had been her mother’s idea, which meant it had been presented as urgent and was, in fact, entirely optional.

A particular ribbon was required. A specific width of blue satin that the Meryton haberdasher had been promising to stock for three weeks and had apparently now received. Mrs Bennet required it for reasons connected to the wedding preparations that Elizabeth did not fully follow and had stopped trying to, and since Mrs Bennet’s cold was keeping her at home, and Jane was needed to listen to further opinions about table arrangements, the errand fell to Elizabeth. She was accompanied by Mary, who accepted the commission with the mild indifference she brought to most things that took place outside the pages of a book.

Meryton smelled of frost and bread from the baker’s on the corner. The morning was cold and bright, and Elizabeth found joy in the simple task of walking. Mary said she wished to call at the circulating library, which was next to the haberdasher, and they agreed to separate for twenty minutes and meet at the corner.

Elizabeth collected the ribbon, which was perfectly ordinary and could have waited another fortnight without difficulty, and came back out onto the street.

A voice, coming from the doorway of the drapers two shops along, carried towards her with the uninhibited volume of someone in good spirits and not thinking about who might be listening. A young woman, talking to another young woman, with animation and excitement.

“She is generous enough when she wants to be, I will say that for her. More than I expected, and I have had enough of cautious mistresses to know the difference.”

Elizabeth halted. The voice was familiar, yet she could not place it.

“What did you do for it?” asked the second voice.

“Nothing much. A small thing. Turned a key when I was told to and found something else to do for an hour.” A short laugh. “Not the sort of thing you ask questions about, is it? You take what you’re given and don’t wonder at the why.”

Elizabeth stopped at the window of the shop between them and pretended to look at the display of gloves, all the while straining her ears to continue listening to the conversation.

She knew the voice. Out of its original context, she had not at first recognised it, but she knew the speaker now. One of the Netherfield housemaids. She had seen her in the corridor on the morning of the study, and once or twice at supper service since. Young, dark-haired, with a sweetheart in the village that one of the other servants had mentioned in passing.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she registered what the housemaid had said.

A key. Turned when she was told.

Elizabeth did not move.

“Didn’t it lead to a fuss, though?” asked the housemaid’s companion. “With that young lady from Longbourn?”

“That was no business of mine, was it? I did what I was asked. What happened after was nothing to do with me.” The volume dropped slightly, though not by enough. “I’ll say this, it wasn’t what was intended. She was very put out about it. Very put out indeed.”

A pause, in which Elizabeth heard her own heartbeat with uncomfortable clarity.

“Then she had meant —”

“Never you mind. That’s enough of that.”

The voices dropped further, and Elizabeth could make out nothing further except the rhythm of speech and occasional laughter. She stood at the glove display and breathed carefully, thinking. The girl had said it was not the sort of thing one asks questions about. And someone who had been very put out that what happened afterward was not what had been intended.

She turned from the window. She needed the girl to keep talking. That was the first and most pressing practical consideration. The conversation in the doorway was winding toward its natural end, and the window for useful information was closing. Elizabeth crossed the pavement toward the draper’s doorway, doing her best to walk as casually as though her purpose was nothing more substantial than a few errands.

The housemaid looked up when she approached and seemed to recognise her as a former guest in her master’s house. She stood a little straighter.

Elizabeth thought quickly. How far did that recognition extend? If she recognised Elizabeth as ‘that young lady from Longbourn’, likely she would be willing to say very little. If, on the other hand, she merely thought Elizabeth looked familiar, it might be possible to get a good deal of information from her.

“Good morning,” Elizabeth said pleasantly. “I thought I recognised you. You are employed at Netherfield Park, are you not?”

“Yes, miss.” The maid cast her eyes toward her shoes, speaking carefully. But luckily, she did not appear guilty or alarmed. That was a lucky break indeed — the young woman must not know who she was.

“I hope you have been well. I have not seen you lately.” Elizabeth smiled carefully, knowing it was critical not to frighten her away. “Are you in Meryton for long?”

“Only for the morning, miss. My mistress gave me half the day.”