Chapter 6 #2
Emma opened the door almost at once, her doll clutched firmly in her arms. A bright smile spread across her face. “Miz Lizzy is here!” she called over her shoulder.
Mrs. Smith appeared from within, Samuel swaddled tightly and cradled in her arms, one careful hand supporting his small head where it rested against her shoulder. She looked well, though still a little pale from her confinement. “Please come in, Miss Elizabeth.”
Inside, the cottage was warm. Sarah stood at the stove, stirring a pot of stew that filled the room with a comforting aroma.
“How are you feeling?” Elizabeth asked gently. “And how does this little gentleman fare?”
“I am improving each day,” Mrs. Smith replied with a soft smile, “though I tire sooner than I once did. That is only to be expected. Pray, sit.”
“May I hold him?”
“With pleasure,” Mrs. Smith said, easing carefully into a chair before transferring the infant. “He would be carried from morning until night if we allowed it.”
Elizabeth slid one arm beneath him and supported his head and neck with the other before settling at the table. Samuel stirred faintly, his tiny fist opening and closing against the folds of his blanket before he gave a small, contented sigh.
“And you, Emma?” Elizabeth asked. “Are you a diligent elder sister?”
Emma nodded gravely. “I am a good big sister. When I am bigger, I shall hold him.”
“I have no doubt you shall,” Elizabeth said warmly.
She inclined her head toward the satchel Harris had brought inside. “I have brought additional supplies. The thread is finer than before. My aunt believes there is demand in Cheapside for floral edging.”
Mrs. Smith lifted one of the spools, turning it carefully between her fingers. “It is beautiful thread. The pattern will show far more delicately.”
“There are new pricked patterns as well,” Elizabeth added. “You must not feel pressed to resume work immediately. They will keep.”
Mrs. Smith smiled. “I do not work lace while pacing the floor, Miss Elizabeth, and Sarah has been invaluable. Still, I have arranged for Mrs. Nichols’s niece, Jenny, to assist during the day.”
“Jenny?” Elizabeth asked. “Is she not very young?”
“She is twelve,” Mrs. Smith said. “But steady. And her wages will ease matters at home.”
Elizabeth considered this a moment, then nodded. “But if you require further assistance, you must send word at once.”
“I shall.”
Elizabeth rose carefully and returned Samuel to his mother, making certain his head was well supported as she did so.
“I must not linger,” she said. “We have preparations this evening.”
“Lucas Lodge?” Mrs. Smith asked knowingly.
Elizabeth smiled. “Just so.”
“Then we shall not detain you. And thank you, for all of it.”
Elizabeth inclined her head and stepped back into the sunlight, satisfied all was in good order.
***
As the carriage made its way toward Meryton, the wheels crunching over damp gravel, Elizabeth watched the hedgerows slip past the window.
The roads had improved since morning. Another day or two would see them dry. Mr. Wilmot would wish to inspect the lower fields.
She rested her gloved hands in her lap.
Lucas Lodge would be lively this evening. Sir William never permitted a gathering to lack enthusiasm.
After a moment, her thoughts turned elsewhere.
Mr. Darcy had been at breakfast, and later in Meryton when they had taken tea.
He had seemed attentive.
She would not object to further conversation.
Elizabeth turned her head slightly toward the window, as though the trees required inspection.
It would be entirely natural for him to attend. He was a guest at Netherfield. There was no reason to suppose otherwise.
She adjusted the ribbon at her wrist.
There was no reason to suppose he would not.
***
Darcy leaned back in the carriage opposite Miss Bingley. It was unfortunate he could not ride to Lucas Lodge; the exercise would have spared him the necessity of listening to Miss Bingley enumerate the deficiencies of country society.
He would almost prefer to forgo the evening altogether.
Almost. Miss Elizabeth would be there.
She was a welcome contrast to the company presently surrounding him, unaffected, intelligent, and refreshingly free from pretension.
Miss Bingley continued her lamentations on Meryton, Netherfield, and what she termed provincial aspirations.
Darcy suppressed a sigh. He wished, not for the first time, that he had taken his own carriage.
***
Elizabeth looked about the room as she entered Lucas Lodge. The warmth and cheerful bustle suited Sir William perfectly.
Glancing around the room, she noticed the Netherfield party had not arrived yet.
She smiled at the sight of Charlotte and made her way toward her.
“Charlotte, how well you look. Your gown is newly trimmed.”
Charlotte’s smile was faint but steady. “My mother insisted. She persists in her hopes.”
Elizabeth inclined her head toward a gentleman engaged in conversation with Sir William. “Who is the officer speaking with your father?”
“That is Colonel Foster,” Charlotte replied. “He is to command the new regiment.”
Elizabeth observed him for a moment, a trace of amusement in her expression. “He appears particularly attentive.”
“Attentive?” Charlotte repeated.
“He looks this way with some frequency.”
Charlotte straightened slightly and smoothed her skirt.
***
Darcy stepped down from the carriage and moved aside, allowing Bingley to assist Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.
Without lingering, Darcy proceeded toward for the house.
It was not entirely gracious, but he had no intention of offering his arm for the remainder of the evening.
A small stir moved through the room as the Netherfield party entered.
Inside, Sir William received them with effusive warmth.
Once the greetings concluded, Darcy surveyed the assembled company.
It found her at once. Miss Elizabeth stood near Miss Lucas, animated and at ease.
He paused only a moment. Then he crossed the room.
***
Colonel Foster approached Charlotte and Elizabeth and bowed. “Good evening, ladies.”
Both young women curtseyed, and Charlotte made the introduction.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Colonel Foster.”
“A pleasure to meet another friend of Miss Lucas,” the colonel said with easy warmth. "It is a pleasure to be so warmly welcomed to the neighbourhood.”
“We are always glad of new company in our small community,” Charlotte replied, smiling.
Elizabeth inclined her head politely, then turned slightly as movement across the room drew her attention.
Mr. Darcy was approaching. His manner was composed, though a faint warmth touched his expression, or so she thought.
“Good evening, Miss Elizabeth,” he said as he reached her side. “I trust you are well.”
“Very well, thank you, sir. And yourself?”
“Quite well. Lucas Lodge appears lively as ever.”
“It would disappoint Sir William otherwise,” she returned lightly.
Charlotte turned. “Mr. Darcy, you are acquainted with Colonel Foster?”
“Indeed. Good evening, Colonel.”
After the exchange of civilities, Charlotte regarded Elizabeth knowingly. “You are aware my father will not rest unless you play this evening.”
“A fine friend you are,” Elizabeth answered, her tone amused rather than reproachful.
Darcy inclined his head. “If you permit, I should be honoured to turn the pages.”
Elizabeth met his gaze steadily. “I should like that. Thank you.”
They moved toward the pianoforte.
Across the room, Miss Bingley observed them, her expression settling into cool composure.
Elizabeth selected a familiar piece and began to play. At her slight inclination toward the page, Darcy turned it without hesitation. She murmured her thanks without interrupting the rhythm.
The final notes faded into polite approval.
Sir William clapped enthusiastically. “Excellent! Miss Bennet, might we persuade you to favour us with a song? I am particularly fond of The Lass of Richmond Hill.”
Elizabeth coloured faintly. “As you wish, sir.” She did not reach for sheet music. A hush gradually fell as she began.
“On Richmond Hill there lives a lass…”
Her voice rose clear and unaffected, free of ornament.
Darcy listened with an attention she had not expected.
Miss Bingley glanced toward him and found his gaze wholly engaged. She leaned toward Mrs. Hurst and spoke in a low tone.
The room applauded when Elizabeth finished.
Mary stepped forward eagerly. “I shall play next, if you please.”
“Something animated, Miss Mary,” Sir William declared. “A little dance music.”
Mary obliged, and the set began to form.
Darcy turned to Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, may I have the honour?”
She accepted.
Jane rose at the same moment, Mr. Bingley at her side. Colonel Foster offered his arm to Charlotte.
Along the wall, Miss Bingley watched, with a tight expression.
As the music quickened and they took their places, Elizabeth could not deny his company was agreeable.