Page 20 of Mr. Darcy and the Mysterious "Miss B"
“Of course. He paced up and down the hall outside your chamber last night for at least an hour. I know because I saw the candlelight flicker past my door time and again.”
“He brought me tea this morning, you know. And asked the cook to prepare a tray with all my favourite foods. He remembered that I mentioned liking strawberry preserves at the assembly.”
“Of course he remembered. The man is besotted with you.”
Jane’s smile was radiant despite her pain. “I find myself quite taken with him as well. When he speaks to me, I feel as though I am the only person in the world who matters to him.” Her smile faded then. “I do wish I had met him sooner.”
The mention of their circumstances brought Elizabeth sharply back to reality. James Morton’s proposal hung over them like dark clouds threatening a storm, the time until the ultimatum ticking away.
“Jane, you cannot seriously mean to accept James’s offer.”
“What choice do I have?” Jane’s voice cracked. “If I refuse James, we lose Longbourn. Mama and our sisters will have nowhere to go.”
“There must be another way—Surely if Mr Bingley knew…”
“He cannot know about James,” she said, wincing as she moved. “I do not want him to believe I see him as a way out. Indeed, as lovely as the day was, I ought not to have come at all. And now I am here for days perhaps.”
“Days during which wonderful things can happen,” Elizabeth insisted. “Please, promise me you will not push him away. Promise me to give the possibility of something good coming of this a chance?”
A soft knock interrupted them before Jane could reply, and Mr Bingley appeared in the doorway with a tea tray. His face brightened when he saw Jane was awake. Elizabeth smirked at the sight of the master of the house bringing a tray of tea to a guest.
No, she was certain, if Jane allowed herself to, she and Mr Bingley might yet find happiness—and Jane’s future might be entirely different from the one they had feared.
***
Later on, that morning, after Jane had rested and Mr Bingley returned to his correspondence, a familiar rapping sounded at the door. The clack of nails against wood was unmistakable. And when the door opened and her sister Lydia appeared, neither Jane nor Elizabeth were surprised.
“Jane!” Lydia rushed to the bedside with all her old enthusiasm. “Mama sent me to check on you the moment she received word. How dreadful that you should fall! Though I must say, this chamber is quite grand. Much nicer than your room at home.”
“Lydia,” Elizabeth said, “how did you get here?”
“I walked. Dreadful. I do not know why you adore it so,” Lydia settled herself on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle Jane. “Now, tell me everything. Does it hurt terribly? Have you been taking laudanum for the pain?”
Elizabeth marvelled at the change in her sister. This was more animation than Lydia had shown since Papa’s death, her natural vivacity breaking through the veil of grief that had shrouded her for so long.
“I am much better today,” Jane assured her. “But I am afraid I have taken up rather a lot of Elizabth’s time.”
“Well, I am here to help,” Lydia declared. “I shall read to you, or we can play cards, or I can tell you all the gossip from Meryton. Did you know Mrs Long’s nephew has returned from India? He is quite handsome, though nowhere near as fine as Mr Bingley.”
“Lydia,” Jane chastised but her cheeks reddened.
“It is true. I confess, he is not even as handsome as Mr Darcy but he would do,” Lydia chuckled. “Now, Lizzy, why not take the air? You look pale. If I know a thing about you, you have not left Jane’s side.”
“Only to sleep but even then, she was gone all of five hours,” Jane informed her.
“Very well,” Elizabeth said and smiled. “If I am not needed, then I shall take a turn about the garden. Lydia, will you stay with Jane?”
“Of course! We have so much to discuss.” Lydia was already settling herself more comfortably, clearly prepared for a lengthy conversation.
Elizabeth retrieved her pelisse and made her way outside. As she stepped onto the stone steps, she gasped for standing there, in the process of turning up his collar, was none other than Mr Darcy.The sight of him sent an unexpected flutter through her chest—when had she begun to find his presence appealing rather than irritating?
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy bowed. “I beg your pardon for startling you. I was about to take a walk.”
“As was I,” she said.
“Ah, well, would you mind company? That way it will not be peculiar when we run into one another again during our walk.”
She had not considered it but couldn’t deny the offer was pleasant. Thus, she smiled and gave a nod.
