Chapter 23
Idyll
Later that day when Elizabeth had a moment to herself, she leaned against the window in her room and chewed on her lips.
Mr. Darcy had made an appearance near the end of her walk. But the task of being an intermediary had not gone as smoothly as she had hoped.
…not between Colonel Fitzwilliam’s open suspicion of everything she conveyed and Mr. Darcy’s rapid frustrations at his “pig-headed cousin”.
But she had bigger problems.
Lady Catherine had sent new summons as usual.
She wished everyone at the parsonage to join her at Rosings later that evening and stay for dinner.
Elizabeth was certain she would create a spectacle of the grandest proportions—with the help of Mr. Collins’ endless sycophantism—to convince Colonel Fitzwilliam to take her and Miss de Bourgh wherever Mr. Darcy was hidden away.
Elizabeth did not wish to suffer through hours of that.
Not that she had a choice.
Her mind wandered to the unfinished letter for Miss Darcy. She was beginning to have an awful suspicion in the depths of her stomach. Especially with Mr. Darcy’s appearances so unpredictable these days. And so much shorter.
Colonel Fitzwilliam’s tight-lipped stance did not bode well either. Elizabeth was afraid that she would see Mr. Darcy for the last time any day now.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
The perfect idyll outside her window was no longer comforting.