Page 39 of Ashes and Understanding
“Miss Elizabeth!” Bingley’s delighted smile prompted her own. “Please, come join us. How is your sister?”
His question was rushed, immediately on the heels of his invitation. She grinned broadly at him and began to make herselection from the sideboard. “She slept well and is still resting comfortably.”
“Excellent… excellent.”
“And how are you faring, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy’s voice was deep and grave.
Elizabeth took her seat at the table and looked across into his dark, piercing eyes. A prickle of heat crept up her neck as he held her gaze a moment too long—just long enough for her pulse to quicken. “I am doing well, sir,” she said at last, taking a bite of toast to cover her sudden—and wholly unexpected—nerves.
He nodded solemnly, though something in the lift of his brow suggested amusement. Swallowing quickly, he asked, “And yourself, Miss Bennet? How are you feeling?”
“Tolerably well, thank you.”
“Darcy!” Bingley cried in mock horror as Elizabeth gaped at him.
And then she saw it—the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. It was not a full smile, but it warmed his face in a way that made her breath catch.
She laughed, bright and unrestrained. “You tease, sir! I would never have imagined it.”
Bingley chuckled, looking between them with open amusement. “Indeed, Darcy! You had us both quite fooled for a moment.”
Darcy inclined his head, his gaze not leaving hers. “I suppose I could not resist.”
Elizabeth shook her head, still smiling. Her fingers absently smoothed the edge of her napkin as she said, “Well, I am pleased to see that your humor has improved along with your health.”
“Oh? Were you feeling unwell, Darcy?”
Her smile faltered, eyes widening slightly. She turned from Bingley’s expression of innocent concern to Darcy’s—his was unreadable, though she thought she saw the shadow of something more vulnerable flicker across it before he shuttered his features again.
He closed his eyes briefly and said, “Merely a cough, Bingley. The air at the assembly was… bothersome.”
Elizabeth’s heart ached at the word. That night flashed briefly in her memory—his breathless struggle, the heat of his skin beneath her hand.
Bingley’s expression softened. “The sea air of Ramsgate did not cure you, then?”
“I am afraid it proved to be less therapeutic than I had wished.”
As Darcy spoke, his eyes shifted once more to hers. There was nothing teasing now in his expression—only gratitude, and something quieter. Something that made her throat go dry.
She quickly looked down at her plate, but her pulse still danced in her wrist, and her fingers itched to brush his hand where it rested near the teacup.
The moment was interrupted when Miss Bingley entered the room, her sharp gaze immediately homing in on Elizabeth’s presence. “Why, Miss Eliza,” she drawled, taking her seat beside her brother. “How devoted you are to your sister, rising so early to care for her.”
Elizabeth merely smiled. “It is no trouble for me, as we are quite used to country hours here. In any case, Jane would do the same for me.”
“Indeed,” Miss Bingley murmured, her gaze flicking toward Darcy. “Such… devotion is most commendable.”
“Speaking of Miss Bennet, will she be joining us today, do you think?” Bingley’s eager face looked so much like that of a puppy, Elizabeth had to stifle a giggle.
“Oh, certainly not!” cried Miss Bingley before Elizabeth could answer. “I cannot even imagine a true lady of refinement would be able to rise from her bed the day after such a terrible injury!”
Elizabeth bristled. “Jane will most likely remain in bed today, as Mr. Jones has recommended. Once he allows her to be carried about, however, I am certain she will be happy to come down to enjoy the company of her new friends.”
“But once she is well enough to be carried down, will she not be returning home?” Miss Bingley’s eyes were wide with a faux innocence that Elizabeth found infuriating.
“I daresay being carried down the stairs is far less damaging than the jostling of a carriage for several miles!” Bingley protested. “In fact, in order to safeguard Miss Bennet’s ankle, I shall carry her about myself to ensure it is done properly.”
Miss Bingley’s fork clattered against her plate. “You, Charles?” she sputtered, her usually poised expression slipping.
