Page 57 of A Most Beloved Sister
Jamie let out a shout. “Dash it all! Speaking of the devil, I really must get to the stables. Sorry, Miss Lizzy!”
With that, he took off, hobbling as quickly as he could down the garden row, leaving Elizabeth to her letters and her thoughts.
It was quite some time before she felt equal to returning to the house again. She’d reread all the missives, turning the information she’d received from her aunt and uncle over and over in her mind, as well as her father’s charge to convey his decision regarding Jane’s marriage with Bingley.
With each step, however, the worry and uncertainty she had been feeling seemed to ease. By the time she reached the front door to Netherfield, the weight on her shoulders had almost entirely disappeared.
Upon entering the house, she turned to a footman. “Could you please have someone tell Mrs. Hurst I would like to have a word with her in my chambers?”
Once in her rooms, Elizabeth changed into shoes more appropriate for the indoors. She was relieved that her feet had almost healed; indeed, she no longer noticed any discomfort at all, and the only sign of the event were some faint pink lines fading away.
Standing at the door connecting her room to Jane’s, she watched her sleeping sister. Jane might be the oldest, butElizabeth had always been the one responsible for their welfare. Now, she was about to give her gentle sister over to the care of someone else.
How could she bear it?
As if aware of her sister’s presence, Jane stirred. She sat up and rubbed her eyes, looking around blearily. “Lizzy?”
“I’m here, dearest.”
Elizabeth crossed the room and knelt at her sister’s bedside. She frowned at Jane’s blue lips and white face. Pressing her hand to Jane’s brow, she asked, “How do you feel?”
“Tired. My chest hurts.”
“Here, drink some water.”
Elizabeth helped Jane sip from the glass at the nearby table. Jane coughed after only a few swallows, causing some to spill on the comforter. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry, Lizzy.”
“Shh, it’s quite all right, Jane,” soothed Elizabeth. “It’s only a little damp. It will dry.”
“I hope Mr. Bingley will not be too angry that I ruined his blanket.”
“It’s not ruined, and I highly doubt he could be angry at you.”
“Indeed, he could not,” Mrs. Hurst chimed in from the same door Elizabeth had entered only minutes before. “Forgive my intrusion, but when there was no response to my knock, I took the liberty of following the murmur of voices from the hallway.”
“Not at all,” replied Elizabeth.
She glanced uncertainly at Jane, unwilling to leave her sister’s side, but equally uncomfortable raising the topic in front of her sister. Finally, she reached into her pocket and wordlessly passed the letter from Mr. Bennet over to Mrs. Hurst, who took it with no small degree of curiosity.
As she did so, Elizabeth caught sight of a fresh bruise on the lady’s wrist, just under the cuff. Mrs. Hurst quickly tugged the sleeve down to cover it, then turned her attention to theletter. Elizabeth, not wishing to pry—especially in front of Jane—resolved to think on the contusion later.
Mrs. Hurst’s eyes skimmed over the page, and a smile of delight spread across the lady’s face. “Oh, this is excellent news indeed!”
“What is excellent news?” asked Jane, craning her short neck to peer at the paper.
Thinking quickly, Elizabeth replied, “Papa writes to say that he thinks Mr. Bingley is a very nice man.”
Jane’s face lit up. “Oh, he most definitely is!”
The girl then listed every single thing she and Mr. Bingley had either done together or discussed in the short time of their acquaintance. As Elizabeth listened to her sister prattle on about the gentleman and his merits, the remaining vestiges of worry disappeared from her shoulders.
At last, Mrs. Hurst excused herself from the room. “I believe I should speak to my brother about this excellent report from your father. Might I take it to show to him?”
Elizabeth nodded, and Mrs. Hurst dipped a quick curtsy of farewell before she darted out the door.
∞∞∞
As she hurried down the hall, Mrs. Hurst couldn’t help but feel a bubble of excitement swell within her breast. It was all she could do to keep from squealing with joy or hugging herself. Finally—a sister! Well, she had Caroline, of course, but there had been little by way of sisterly consolation from her in well over a decade. Now she would have two delightful young ladies with genuine fondness for one another to call family.
