Page 49 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
He called into question his physician’s wisdom, blamed his cousin for any ink-smudged mistakes, and even presumed to giveheradvice on how she ought to pass the time. Or how she ought not, rather.
She laughed. “Presumptuous man.” She reached the end and ran her fingers lightly over the signature:Your most devoted correspondent in captivity.
Elizabeth knew she ought to leave it there. She had written first, he had responded, and they had each received their reassurance. That was all that was necessary.
And yet hehadrequested another letter. Her fingers tapped idly against the letter as her thoughts spun ahead.
“No, Lizzy,” Aunt Gardiner said firmly, watching her with an amused but knowing glance. “One letter for each of you is more than enough.”
Elizabeth bit her lip and nodded, though she was not entirely dissuaded. Another letterwasperhaps too great a risk—but she longed to speak with him, and he wished to hear from her. They were only rooms apart! There had to be a way.
Her gaze flickered to the books piled on the bedside table. Yes. That would do.
Elizabeth’s fingers danced over them, searching for the perfect one to serve her purpose.
She trailed her fingers overThe Ramblerby Samuel Johnson before dismissing it—too moralising.The Vicar of Wakefieldwas tempting, but perhaps too sentimental. Then, her gaze settled upon a book of Greek myths.
A smile tugged at her lips.
With quick fingers, she flipped through the pages until she found a passage that suited her purpose.
At that moment, Jane stepped inside the chamber, balancing a tray with tea. “You are looking quite pleased with yourself,” Jane observed as she set the tray down.
Elizabeth grinned. “A most egregious accusation. I am merely reading.”
Jane laughed with a gentle shake of her head. “Then I shall not inquire why you are readingthatparticular book with such satisfaction.”
“I think that wise,” Aunt Gardiner said wryly.
Elizabeth pressed a hand to her chest in mock innocence. “It is always beneficial to reflect upon the stories of the ancients.”
“Indeed.” Jane, entirely unconvinced, poured them each a cup of tea.
Elizabeth glanced up at her sister, then tilted her head thoughtfully. “Would you be so kind as to locate a pencil for me?”
Jane, who had not been expecting such a request, arched a brow. “A pencil?”
“For notes,” Elizabeth said smoothly. “I find I must record a thought.”
Jane tipped her head as she assessed Elizabeth, the expression of amusement deepening, but she moved to the writing desk in the corner, opened a drawer, and retrieved a pencil. “Will this do?”
Elizabeth took it with a bright smile. “Perfectly.”
And with that, she lightly underlined the passage she wanted:“No affliction is greater than that of the wise woman whose words are disregarded by those who ought to take heed.”
Then, in the margin, she wrote:
“. . . and wise men as well. Those who disregard sensible advice should apologise.”
She slid a bookmark between the pages and shut the book with great satisfaction. Now, she needed only a willing accomplice.
At that moment, Miss de Bourgh drifted into the room, looking mildly interested in the proceedings.
“Oh, good day, Miss de Bourgh,” Aunt Gardiner said warmly. Jane asked if she would like a cup of tea, but Miss de Bourgh declined.
“I only wished to see how Miss Elizabeth fares.” She smiled at Elizabeth. “You have been much discussed.”
“Well, that is quite flattering, I thank you.”
