Page 19 of Mr. Darcy and the Mysterious "Miss B"
“That she has become engaged. To the Marquess of Ashford, no less. Such a prestigious match for dear Anne—though I confess I am surprised. I had always understood that you and she were… that is, your families had certain expectations…”
Caroline let the words hang in the air, watching Darcy’s face with obvious interest.
“My aunt did harbour such hopes,” Darcy admitted. “However, Anne has chosen her own path. The Marquess is an excellent man, and she appears quite happy with her choice.”
“How wonderful for her,” Caroline said, a glint in her eyes. “Though I imagine Lady Catherine must be rather disappointed. She spoke so often of the match between you and Anne as a settled thing.”
“My aunt’s disappointment is her own affair.”
Caroline leaned forward, her eyes bright with interest. “But surely this changes things for you? I mean to say, withthat… understanding no longer in place, you must feel such relief.”
“Relief?”
“Well, you are free to make your own connection now, surely,” she said with a smile.
Too late, Darcy realised his mistake. By confirming Anne’s engagement, he had inadvertently signalled his own availability. Caroline’s increased attention, her late-night visit to the drawing room, her pointed questions—it all made perfect sense.
She was positioning herself as a candidate for his affections.
“Well, that is true. However, I have no intention of being tied down at present. I am rather enjoying a period of freedom after being traded as my cousin’s husband for so long.”
“I see.”
The silence that followed was painful.
“The hour is late,” she said finally and rose. “I shall have to retire.”
She swept towards the door, pausing only to deliver a parting shot, “Though I confess myself curious as to where your affections might actually lie.”
With that cryptic comment, she was gone.
He sank back into his chair, rubbing his temples against the beginnings of a headache. The evening had begun with such promise—Elizabeth’s sparkling conversation, the growingunderstanding between them. Now it threatened to become decidedly complicated.
He had no answers, only the growing certainty that the next few days at Netherfield would prove far more interesting—and perilous—than anyone imagined. For sadly, Caroline Bingley was not one to give up easily. In that way, she was rather like a dog with a bone. And in this case, Darcy was afraid he was said bone.
Chapter 7
Elizabeth
Sunlight streamed through the bedchamber’s windows, casting gentle patterns across the coverlet where Jane lay propped against a mountain of pillows. Her face was pale but peaceful, a stark contrast to the previous evening’s distress when she had tumbled down Netherfield’s stairs.
Elizabeth adjusted the cushion behind her sister’s back with careful hands. “How does that feel?”
“Much better, thank you. Though I confess I feel rather foolish for causing such a commotion.”
“Foolish? You fell down a flight of stairs, Jane. That hardly makes you foolish.”
“It was most embarrassing. And the way Mr Bingley…” she trailed off, her fingers plucking at the blanket.
Elizabeth settled into the chair beside the bed. Despite the obvious discomfort from her injuries, there was something else in Jane’s face—a soft glow that had not been there in months.
“What about Mr Bingley?” Elizabeth prompted.
“He was so gentle,” Jane said, a dreamy tinge to her words. “When he carried me up here, I felt so safe in his arms. He was careful not to jostle me, and his voice was so kind when he spoke to the surgeon. He insisted on staying until Mr Morrison pronounced my condition stable.”
Elizabeth smiled. “He cares for you, Jane. Anyone with eyes can see it.”
“Do you think so?”
