Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth was announced with due ceremony and shown into the breakfast parlor.
She stopped short when all attention turned to her.
Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Hurst were seated together on one side of a long table, facing her, while the sisters sat on the other side, facing away.
They were all still eating. Late even for town hours, Elizabeth thought distractedly, noting that there was an extensive repast laid out.
The servants must have been cooking since before the sun rose.
No wonder it took so long to get everything to table.
The men stood immediately, the expressions on their faces shifting from surprise to concern.
Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst rose more gracefully and turned to greet their unexpected visitor, their emotions moving from surprise to contempt.
Then, in less time than it took to blink, every one of them had controlled their countenance.
Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek, thinking she would remember this moment all her life.
She had shocked five people of fashion out of their complacency for a full two seconds.
Aunt Olivia will appreciate that. Or perhaps she will scold. The thought made her frown.
Miss Bingley greeted her with all politeness.
“I am come to see my sister,” Elizabeth explained, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Of course,” Mr. Bingley replied approvingly. “Have you eaten, Miss Elizabeth?” When she nodded, he turned to his sister. “We shall have someone take you up to Miss Bennet immediately. Caroline?”
Caroline moved gracefully to the door to speak a few words to the footman stationed there.
“Did you come on your own, Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy asked. She could not tell how he felt about the question. She knew he would never allow Georgie to walk alone. Yet he did not seem to criticize.
Elizabeth lifted her chin. “My sisters accompanied me, but they have returned home.” She observed Mrs. Hurst’s eyes falling to the bottom of her skirt, where the dirty petticoats were still visible. She literally bit her tongue to keep from speaking. You want to see Jane. You want to see Jane.
Miss Bingley returned and invited her to sit, but Elizabeth politely declined.
“Please do sit, gentlemen,” Elizabeth said, when it was apparent they would not do so on their own while she was standing. “I am happy to wait in the hall.”
“Come,” Mr. Bingley said genially, “I will wait with you.” He ignored the protest that Elizabeth believed was hanging on Miss Bingley’s lips, instead holding up one hand. “Caroline, you have not finished your meal. Please remain.”
Elizabeth did not wish to create discord. She needed Miss Bingley’s good will. “Truly, it is not necessary…” she began but paused when she glanced at his face. He was apprehensive, too. “I thank you, sir,” she replied, as he motioned for her to precede him.
Elizabeth observed Mr. Bingley as they walked to the foot of the grand staircase together.
Other than their dance at the assembly, it was the closest she had ever been to him, and she took the opportunity to observe him closely .
He was a handsome man, she thought. Blonde hair, blue eyes, fair skin with a light smattering of freckles.
Somehow, they suited him. He was not overly tall, certainly a smaller man than Mr. Darcy, but well-formed without being intimidating.
Perhaps that was why he had developed an amiable personality; it was an easier way for such a man to get along.
Still, she had heard enough the night they met to know he was not a weak man.
He and Jane would do well together, she thought, and their children would be beautiful.
Then, scandalized by her own imagination, she rushed to begin a conversation on a different topic and asked the first thing that came to mind.
“Have you known Mr. Darcy long, Mr. Bingley?” she asked.
He blinked. Clearly this was not a topic he had expected her to introduce, and were it possible to roll her eyes at herself, she would have done so.
“Several years, Miss Elizabeth.” He tilted his head as he considered her question. “I met him at Brooks’s not long after I left Cambridge.”
“I see,” she said, hoping he would realize she had not meant to pry.
He did not seem to mind. He peered at Elizabeth for a moment and then his lips stretched into a smile.
“Truth be told, Miss Elizabeth, I was estranged from my father, and Darcy, well, he encouraged me to reconcile with the man. He had been through something similar with his own father.” His gaze drifted down and he tapped the first riser with the side of his boot.
“My father died not a year afterward, and I will always be grateful that we had settled our differences. He had great faith in my abilities to manage the family fortune, you see, but until I made the effort to speak with him, I did not know.”
“When your parents have confidence in you, it is easier to have confidence in yourself,” Elizabeth agreed, recalling her thirteenth birthday.
They stood silently for a moment, Elizabeth sneaking a look at him before Mr. Bingley glanced up and revived the conversation. “Miss Bennet tells me you are the sister with all the questions. I presume you must have at least one more for me?”
“Oh, you must have me confused with Mary,” Elizabeth replied, diverted.
“No,” he shook his head with mock solemnity, “I believe I was informed that Miss Mary is the one with all the answers.”
Elizabeth laughed a little despite her worry. “Thank you, Mr. Bingley. I dearly needed a laugh.”
“Your sister will be well, and soon, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Bingley reassured her.
They stood in an awkward silence for a time before Elizabeth gave in to her curiosity. “I saw that my father took you aside at Lucas Lodge,” she said teasingly. “I suppose he was asking you about your intentions?”
Mr. Bingley put his hands behind his back and glanced at his feet to hide a smile. “Your father said you would ask.”
“I asked him,” she confessed, suddenly shy, “but he would not tell me.”
This produced a small laugh. “He did inquire as to my intentions, Miss Elizabeth. I told him that they were honorable, and in return, he told me that providing for his daughters would not fall to Miss Bennet’s suitor.” He looked up. “No matter who he might be.”
“Does—forgive me, Mr. Bingley. Does Jane know?” Elizabeth asked. May I broach the topic with her?
“Miss Elizabeth,” he chided her kindly, “do I seem the sort of man to tell you such a thing before I had spoken with Miss Bennet?”
Her heart swelled with happiness for Jane. Then there was the sound of footsteps above them. A maid was walking down the stairs. “I thank you, Mr. Bingley,” Elizabeth said quickly, and moved to meet the girl halfway.
“You are welcome, Miss Elizabeth,” he called after her.
Jane was propped up on a mountain of pillows when Elizabeth entered the room.
For a moment, she just stood still and cataloged her sister’s appearance.
Cheeks flushed, hair plaited and resting over one shoulder, one delicate hand lying atop a blanket.
Elizabeth felt herself relax a bit. There was no gray tinge to her sister’s skin; her lips did not have a bluish cast. She moved to take Jane’s hand in her own. Jane opened her eyes.
“Oh, Jane,” Elizabeth said with a sigh, leaning over to embrace her. “I am sorry you are ill.” Jane’s skin was warm, and Elizabeth’s fear blossomed again. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that if it was a fever, it was not so very high.
Jane smiled wanly. “It is my own fault, Lizzy,” she replied, embarrassed. “You all warned me not to take such a risk.” She squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “I apologize for frightening you.”
“How did you know to send the note to me?” Elizabeth asked, abashed.
Jane stroked her sister’s arm. “I know you, dearest.”
She knows me. All the years away, but still, Jane knew her. Two hot tears escaped the corners of her eyes, and she swiped at them inelegantly with the back of a hand. “You should know that Mary will be impossible to live with after this,” Elizabeth said in a weak attempt at humor.
“And she would be in the right,” Jane sighed, sinking into the pillows again.
“Mr. Bingley told me something I think explains your eagerness to visit,” Elizabeth said, reaching out to brush some strands of hair from Jane’s forehead. “Oh, Jane,” she crowed, laying her head on her sister’s shoulder, “he told Papa he has honorable intentions!”
“He is the most wonderful man, Lizzy,” Jane said happily, and coughed. “But it is not yet a formal courtship.” She stopped to catch her breath.
No, not until the instant you return to Longbourn, Elizabeth thought, recalling Mr. Bingley’s concerned visage. Then it will be proper. “Now we must get you well,” she said. “I am quite sure your Mr. Bingley will put up with me only for the opportunity to hear of you.”
“I saw this as an occasion to meet with his sisters while he was from home,” Jane whispered miserably, “to gauge how they might behave with me. They are always so very proper when he is near.” She coughed again, and Elizabeth picked up the teapot to pour. As she did, steam curled up from the spout.
Elizabeth frowned as she handed Jane the teacup. “I do not think his sisters know,” she cautioned.
Jane nodded and took a sip of the tea. “I believe you are correct.”
That speaks to Mr. Bingley’s intelligence, Elizabeth thought approvingly.
“They have been very good to me, seeing as I arrived soaked to the bone and leaving puddles in the front hall.” Jane drank the rest of the tea, closed her eyes, and leaned back against the pillows.
Elizabeth caught the cup and returned it to the tray.
“I suspect they would not have been nearly as kind had they been aware.”