Chapter 15
Astute
Elizabeth set the bowl of chicken feed down on the grass and watched the birds abandon their stray pecking to swarm the food. She stepped back.
She had tried to stay awake the previous night in hopes of having Mr. Darcy appear. Tried to occupy herself by copying the penciled letter out on fresh sheets with ink. But then she had given in to her drooping eyelids after a few hours.
Elizabeth sighed and wiped her hands on the sides of her skirt. She went inside.
“Eliza, there you are!”
She looked up just as Charlotte stepped off the staircase and smiled at her.
“Charlotte,” she smiled back. “Did you need me?”
“Not precisely. But I would like your company for tea.”
“Of course.”
Once the tea things were arranged and they each had a cup in their possession, Charlotte eyed Elizabeth with more intensity than usual.
“What is it?” Elizabeth asked in exasperation. She knew that look.
“I was wondering what you made of the matter with Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead. She quickly sipped some tea.
“Poor man. I pray for his speedy recovery,” Charlotte said, tsking in regret. “I know I should not be saying this, for it does not concern me or my family, but it does not sit right with me what Lady Catherine is attempting to do.”
Elizabeth frowned. Lady Catherine’s obsession was unsettling.
“I believe Mr. Darcy’s cousins will prevent any interference,” she said. “They have been very secretive so far.”
Charlotte reached for a biscuit. “Yes, but I can see how there might be a wish for a marriage between Mr. Darcy and Miss de Bourgh. They both have their inheritances, which is significant as I hear from Mr. Collins, though I believe Pemberley is much larger than Rosings…”
Surprise raised Elizabeth’s eyebrows higher.
Rosings was a very large estate, she knew. How much larger was Pemberley?
“...Lady Catherine has been vocal about joining the two houses. I believe she wishes to keep the wealth in the family…”
Was this the reason behind Mr. Darcy’s prideful mannerisms and lofty conceit?
“...so I cannot imagine Lord Matlock being opposed to such a union…”
But then why was Mr. Darcy such a close friend to Mr. Bingley?
“...nevertheless, it does not sit right with me to have them marry the man while he is not in his senses…”
She knew of Lady Catherine’s disdain for the trading class, which was not a different opinion from that of the other members of the peerage and gentility.
And everyone in Meryton knew that Mr. Bingley’s father had been a man of business, who had only sold his factories to raise his children as gentry, away from the touch of trade.
“...what do you think, Eliza?”
Besides, Mr. Darcy had not behaved badly with her or acted imperiously since she encountered his apparition. Not once.
“Eliza?”
And he had never broken propriety, other than the unavoidable, despite having the opportunity…
“Elizabeth!”
She startled out of her thoughts—almost spilling the tea in her cup—when Charlotte gently nudged her knee.
“Careful!” Charlotte cried.
Elizabeth flushed with embarrassment and settled the cup and saucer more firmly on her lap.
“I apologize, Charlotte. My mind…” Her blush deepened. “...wandered. What were you saying?”
Charlotte looked at her with concern.
“I am worried about you, Eliza. You have seemed out of sorts since yesterday.”
Elizabeth stared at the milk-brown beverage in her cup. It was swirling gently.
“I am well.”
Charlotte “hmm-ed” non-committally.
“I also noticed you talking to yourself in the garden some days ago.”
Elizabeth paused with her teacup halfway to her lips. Then she quirked her eyebrows. “I was… entertaining myself.”
“I would say you are usually better at concealing the truth than that.”
Elizabeth huffed.
“Well, Mr. Collins leaves me no opportunity to debate. So I took it upon myself to keep my wits sharp.” She took a careful sip of her tea.
“By talking to Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth almost spluttered into her cup. She could feel her face flaming. Charlotte raised an eyebrow pointedly.
“I know you are hiding something.” The intensity was back in Charlotte’s eyes. “Can you not trust me to aid you? It would not be right if something were to happen to you while you are in my care.”
Elizabeth sighed.
“Charlotte, I beg you to trust in our friendship and not ask. It will give you sleepless nights.”
Charlotte looked at her in alarm. “What is that supposed to mean!?” A deep frown of suspicion etched itself on her face. “Did you have a secret understanding with Mr. Darcy? Is this grief over what happened to him?”
“Of course not!” Elizabeth said, equally alarmed. “I have never held Mr. Darcy in any esteem. You know what he did to Mr. Wickham, and how he behaved in Meryton. What he said about me!”
Then she sighed again, setting her cup down on the table between them. “Yet… the circumstances are such that it calls to my basic humanity.”
Charlotte pressed her lips.
“Eliza, I would not pry usually, but you have been unwell in sudden bursts. What am I supposed to think? Please tell me no one has importuned you.”
Elizabeth shook her head and gazed out of the window. If only matters were as dramatic as what Charlotte was hinting at, it would be comical and ridiculous—for certain!—but not what it actually was.
The sunlight was so bright, it almost hurt her eyes. Elizabeth blinked rapidly.
“I am perfectly well, Charlotte. Perhaps I will tell you someday.”