Chapter 13 #3
“It is a bit better, I thank you for asking. Your aunt has been most solicitous and kind, supplying me with copious amounts of willow bark tea.” Elizabeth pushed aside the latest untouched cup, which, of course, immediately drew Miss Hughes’s attention to it.
“Did you have a pleasant time with your friends? I trust you passed along my apologies.”
Miss Hughes sat upon the bed and bounced on it a few times, though her countenance was grim. “Yes, I passed along your regrets, although, by the looks of that full cup, I doubt your head truly hurts at all.” She sighed then bit down on her thumbnail.
“What is it, my friend? Clearly you have something troubling on your mind. Will you not tell me?”
Intent then on picking at a loose thread on the patchwork quilt, Miss Hughes would not meet Elizabeth’s eyes. “Miss Althea asked me some odd questions about you.”
“What kind of questions?”
“She enquired whether you had an excessive fondness for tipple—wine, sherry, sweetened cordials, and whatnot.”
“What! An excessive fondness… For tipple? Good gracious! Why would she…” Calming herself so that she might be capable of forming a sentence, Elizabeth took a breath. “How could Miss Althea even think such a thing?”
Miss Hughes shrugged. “That is what I asked her. Instead of answering, she questioned your integrity.”
“My integrity?” That brought Elizabeth to her feet. “I cannot credit this!”
“Rest assured that I defended you, for you are not only my friend. I look up to you as a shining model of all I wish to be, although I fear that you are inimitable. At any rate, I was not the only one to come to your support, for Miss Darcy also is a staunch admirer. And Miss Althea seemed immensely relieved when we both assured her of your honesty, your strong moral principles, and, um, your sobriety.”
“Well then, truly and soberly, I thank you.” Indeed grateful for both girls’ amity, Elizabeth was determined to henceforth pay special attention to those friendships rather than fruitless hopes of anything more intimate with any particular person at Strandsmere Park.
“Miss Bennet, do you suppose it is wrong for me to be happy and making new friends so soon after the loss of my parents?”
Elizabeth sat on the bed beside Miss Hughes. “What do you suppose your mother and father would prefer—that you mope about in your room, crying and feeling forlorn, or would they want to see you smiling and laughing? I think we both know the answer to that.”
Her friend nodded. “I just wish they were here with me, so I could tell them about all the people I have met, particularly Mr Clark. And about Miss Wright’s scary aria and the feather in my cap and the antics of Hector and Heiress Tottle and the planned— Oh!
I just remembered that I have something important for my aunt and uncle.
” Loosening her reticule’s drawstrings, she withdrew a letter.
“I know what it says, for Mr Darcy told me. It is an invitation for the four of us to attend, in two days’ time and weather-permitting, a picnic at Strandsmere Park.
That is to be followed by a boating excursion along the stream, Willow Bourn, that branches off into the wetlands.
Mr Darcy has two punts but wants to know whether my uncle has a flat-bottomed boat appropriate for inland waters, which I know he does because— Good gracious! Is that Mrs Poole’s Baumstriezel?”
“It is, indeed.” After removing her own half-eaten piece, Elizabeth handed the plate to her friend.
Miss Hughes thanked her, then took a bite.
“I like Baumkuchen well enough, but Baumstriezel has this delicious caramel crust. Perhaps I shall ask Mrs Poole to make some for the picnic. It will be such fun to go boating, though Mr Darcy strongly recommends we ladies bring parasols and wear long sleeves because there could be horseflies or the odd mosquito. Oh, and Miss Darcy says she will bring Hector.”
Elizabeth smiled and admitted to herself that she yearned for the company of the dog and its owner. Most of all, though, she pined for Mr Darcy and the repartee they had enjoyed together.
Meanwhile, Miss Hughes had scarcely stopped talking long enough to take a breath let alone another bite of Baumstriezel.
“Mr Ansel, the land steward at Strandsmere, told us that he has seen marsh orchids growing along the stream, peregrine falcons flying above the meadows, swans gliding by, and otters playing on the riverbank. Miss Darcy and Miss Althea are bringing drawing paper to capture scenes that will afterwards be painted with watercolours.” Finally, she took another bite and released a contented sigh.
“Mr Darcy has devised a most delightful scheme, has he not? I pray that your fictitious headache may soon be palliated, for you must join us.”
Well, I am not going to miss such an expedition for anyone—not even mosquitoes or Mr Darcy and his future bride!
And, after all, how many headaches can one feign?
For all I care, Miss Wright and the gentleman may share a boat, make eyes at one another, and exchange mawkish words while I admire nature and pretend I am not at all bothered by their secret engagement.