Chapter Thirteen
The contents of Jane’s trunk lay spread across her bed at Netherfield and four women stood around it trying to decide what style and colour would make it look least like she had risen from her deathbed.
Jane herself sat at the dressing table watching the scene unfold with kindly exasperation.
The women were in a state of happy chaos that reminded Elizabeth fondly of Longbourn, though those rose-tinted glasses were probably due at least in some part to the proximity of a certain tall, dark breakfast partner from Derbyshire.
"Jane always looks lovely in pink," Elizabeth offered.
"It will make her look sallow," Caroline said at once.
"I like the simplicity of white," Louisa suggested, earning an equally determined refusal from both Caroline and Elizabeth.
After listening to the debate for several minutes, Martha looked towards the gown laid across the foot of the bed and settled the matter. "The blue muslin," she said with a finality that even Caroline dared not refuse.
Caroline turned towards the gown laid across the foot of the bed and considered it afresh. "Yes. The colour is strong enough to put some life back into her face without making it appear that she is trying too hard."
"I am not trying at all," Jane reminded her with a light laugh. Her voice was still a bit raspy, but there was a brightness back in her eyes that made Elizabeth’s heart glad.
Elizabeth caught Jane's eye in the mirror and winked at her sister. "I fear you have been outnumbered."
"I had understood that some small choice might be allowed me as the person who is to wear the gown."
"Pish. You chose to come downstairs for dinner," Caroline said. "We cannot permit you to make every decision."
Jane rose from the dressing stool with a shake of the head and allowed herself to be helped into the gown, while Louisa gathered discarded gowns and ribbons and Elizabeth fastened the small buttons at her back.
The room had become agreeably untidy, with gloves tucked among folded shawls and one slipper lying forlornly beneath the bed.
Caroline selected a darker blue ribbon and came to stand behind Jane. "This one." She began threading the ribbon through Jane's hair. She worked with surprising care, loosening one curl near Jane's temple and stepping back twice to judge the effect before finally nodding her approval.
"There. Charles will forget his own name. And possibly the entire English language, my dear."
Jane lowered her eyes, but the smile in the glass betrayed her.
Caroline caught it and laughed, the sound warm and entirely unguarded.
She wore deep plum silk that evening, with no feathers and nothing designed to provoke comment.
The simplicity became her. Elizabeth thought she had never seen Caroline look so much herself.
Martha finished adjusting Jane's gown and stepped back. "That will do nicely, miss. You look a picture. All of you ladies look very well indeed."
Jane rose and took several careful steps towards the fire. Elizabeth watched closely, but her sister remained steady and turned with a small smile of triumph.
"You see? I am perfectly well."
"You are standing upright," Elizabeth said. "I shall only truly be convinced when you have survived the first course."
Caroline reached for the shawl lying across the bed and settled it around Jane's shoulders. "You will keep this with you. The dining room grows cold near the windows, and if I let you catch a chill, my brother will have my head."
Jane smiled up at her. "Thank you, Miss Bingley, Caroline. Thank you so much for your care. I am so grateful."
The change was slight, but the warmth in Caroline’s expression faded and her gaze dropped to the fabric beneath her fingers. For a moment, she seemed to have forgotten what she meant to do with it. Then she settled it gently over Jane’s shoulders and walked towards the bed.
Louisa noticed first. "Caro?"
Caroline reached for a ribbon and began threading it back and forth mindlessly through her fingers.
"It is nothing. I was only thinking how pleasant this has been.
No one has wanted anything from me. No one has expected me to flatter someone or impress someone or behave in whatever manner would be most useful to them. I have simply been myself."
Her voice had grown softer, and the last word caught a little.
"It has been so freeing," she continued.
"I had almost forgotten what it felt like to speak without first considering what effect it ought to have.
To wear something because I liked it. To laugh without wondering whether some foppish fortune hunter would take it as encouragement. "
Louisa crossed the room towards her, but Caroline shook her head. "I only mean... I have spent so long making certain no one could want me that I think I succeeded too fully."
Elizabeth saw her fingers tighten around the ribbon.
"He may have returned," Caroline said. "Thomas may have come back years ago and seen me at a ball or across some drawing room or London street.
He may have heard me say something cruel to someone who had done nothing to deserve it and thought me exactly what everyone else thinks me—the Shrew of Grosvenor Square. "
Caroline's eyes remained fixed upon the ribbon in her hand.
"Perhaps that is why the parcels stopped.
Perhaps he saw what I had become and decided that whatever he once felt for me had been a mistake.
" Her voice broke upon the final word, and she turned away quickly.
"Oh, never mind. It is a foolish, girlish dream and I have only myself to blame. "
Louisa crossed the room towards her and then stopped abruptly.
For a moment she simply stared at her sister, and Elizabeth saw understanding begin to gather in her face.
"Oh, Caro," she said slowly. "Is this why you have always...
I wondered sometimes, but I never knew. Was there someone? What did Papa do?"
Caroline's eyes flew to hers, and the colour drained from her face.
Before she could answer, Mr Bingley's voice rang through the door, bright with barely contained happiness.
"Are you ladies nearly ready? There are several very fine gentlemen out here waiting to escort you downstairs.
" Mr Hurst muttered something which did not sound especially fine, and Mr Bingley added, "Ignore him. There are at least two."
A bubble of laughter escaped Jane, and she looked guiltily towards Caroline, who let out a long breath as she turned away and reached for her gloves. As she turned back, she smiled brightly, though to Elizabeth’s eye it did not ring true. "Then we must not keep them."
"Caro," Louisa began.
"Not now." Caroline pulled on one glove, though her fingers trembled slightly. "Please, Louisa."
Louisa held her gaze for another moment before nodding. Caroline drew a breath, smoothed the skirts of her gown and opened the door.
Mr Bingley stood nearest, looking far too pleased with himself.
His attention moved immediately to Jane, and the joking expression fell from his face.
"Miss Bennet," he said, with such open delight that Jane's cheeks turned pink.
He offered her his arm and began fussing over whether she felt strong enough for the stairs before she had even taken a step.
Darcy waited a little behind the others, but his attention found Elizabeth at once.
When she came towards him, he offered his arm without a word.
She placed her hand upon his sleeve, and his own covered it almost immediately, drawing her a little closer than propriety required.
The warmth of his hand settled over hers and sent a quiver through her.
When she looked up, his dark eyes were already upon her, and the memory of breakfast returned with startling force: his palm against her cheek and the way he had watched her as he tasted the preserve from his thumb.
Heat crept up her neck. He must have seen it, for his fingers tightened over hers and he smiled down at her with an almost wolfish satisfaction.
"You look very pretty when you colour like that, Elizabeth. "
The use of her given name had her pulse thudding in her ears, but she tried to remain composed. "The weather has held," she said, although her voice sounded strange and tinny to her ears.
"So it has."
"Shall we walk, Mr Darcy? You asked so prettily, it seems a shame not to."
His gaze held hers as his hand tightened over her own. "Elizabeth, I have thought of very little else since you left me this morning."
???
Elizabeth did not join Darcy at once. She first saw Jane settled beside the fire, with Mr Bingley hovering attentively and Caroline fussing with her shawl. Only when Jane assured her that she was comfortable did Elizabeth allow herself to leave the drawing room.
Darcy was waiting near the terrace doors. He offered her his arm, and when she placed her hand upon his sleeve, his own covered it with a familiarity that made her pulse quicken. Together, they stepped outside into the clear evening air.
The sun had begun to dip behind the trees, sending long bands of gold across the lawns.
Evening dew clung to the leaves and grass, and the whole park seemed to sparkle in the fading light.
For a little while they followed the path in silence, neither hurrying nor making any attempt to fill it.
Elizabeth felt as if she were walking in a dream, and though she knew she ought to be careful, cautious even, she could do nothing but revel in the joy of him walking beside her—solid and warm.
"You have become very quiet," she said at last.
"I have been thinking about tomorrow." His gaze remained upon the path ahead. "You will return to Longbourn, and I find I do not like the thought of allowing you to go without making myself understood."