Page 50 of Mr. Darcy's Folly
Miss de Bourgh’s eyes sparkled. “I cannot say the discussions were always complimentary.”
Aunt Gardiner let out a soft laugh, and Elizabeth smiled.
“I fear I have caused you a bit of trouble.”
Her aunt patted her hand. “Elizabeth is a terrible patient, I fear.”
Jane nodded solemnly. “She has never been able to abide sitting abed.”
“I am perfectly well,” Elizabeth protested. “I do not require entertainment.”
“You do not require it, no,” Jane said fondly. “And yet, you seek it out with great determination.”
Aunt Gardiner chuckled. “In truth, I am quite impressed by her restraint of late.”
Miss de Bourgh regarded Elizabeth with quiet amusement. “Truly?”
Oh, she was going to like Miss de Bourgh very much indeed. Elizabeth tilted her chin. “I shall have you know that I have been exceedingly well-behaved.”
Miss de Bourgh lifted a brow. “So it is pure coincidence that my cousin the colonel sought me out to deliver a letter?”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together, schooling her expression into perfect innocence. “I have no knowledge of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s daily habits.”
Miss de Bourgh studied her for a long moment before making a sound very much like her mother. “Mm.”
“I do hope you will not think me ungrateful for your generosity.” Elizabeth was not speaking in jest. Her chamber was beautiful, and Miss de Bourgh had been very kind to allow her to remain—and to host her relatives too.
“Oh, I have no concerns about you at all,” Miss de Bourgh said mildly. “I am merely thinking of Darcy. He is rather a protective sort and would not wish you to stir from your room before you were entirely well.”
Jane bit back a smile, and Aunt Gardiner lifted her teacup to hide her amusement.
Elizabeth, for her part, only smoothed her hands over the cover of the book in her lap.
“Yes,” she said lightly, “about Mr. Darcy. I wonder if you might assist me with a small favour?”
Miss de Bourgh gave her a long, unreadable look. “That depends,” she said slowly, “on what you require.”
She held up the book. “A minor favour. I simply need this returned to Colonel Fitzwilliam, as it is not mine.”
Her hostess’s gaze flickered between Elizabeth and the book. “No, it is mine.”
Elizabeth met her eyes. “Are you certain?”
Miss de Bourgh considered this for a moment, then, with a very small smirk, extended her hand.
Elizabeth placed the book in her grasp. “You are most obliging.”
Anne turned it over in her hands. “And what do you suppose,” she said idly, “Colonel Fitzwilliam will do with this book?”
Elizabeth arranged her features into an expression of the purest innocence. “I would not presume to say.”
Miss de Bourgh glanced at Jane. “Is she always like this?”
Jane, who had been observing the exchange with an affectionate smile, nodded. “More or less.”
Anne shook her head in mock despair. “I suppose it is too late to warn Darcy.”
“Oh,” Aunt Gardiner said, setting her teacup in its saucer, “I believe he already knows.”
