Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
She had been kissed, and by a man such as Mr Darcy. She felt as if she had been filled with air and was floating.
Somehow, she was at Longbourn, and somehow, she was up the stairs and in her bed chamber.
“Lizzy, are you quite well?”
Jane was sitting at the window with her needlework looking luminous with the late morning sun shining upon her.
Elizabeth wanted to tell her how wonderful the world could be, and how perfect Mr Darcy was, but she did not trust that she could say the first without the last, and the last would necessitate the sharing of the secret she and Mr Darcy agreed to keep.
“Yes. The day is perfect. Intoxicating, really.” That word. Intoxicating. He had called her intoxicating. Her legs felt like water.
“I enjoy a walk, but you somehow turn it into an epiphany. I envy you for that.”
Elizabeth threw herself at her sister, wrapping her arms around her, which elicited a cry of surprise. “And I envy your perfect calm and the attention you have from Mr Bingley.”
When she sat next to Jane, she noted Jane’s consternation.
“Lizzy, you do not…fancy him, do you?”
“Mr Bingley? No!” Oh heavens, she had made her sister wonder, and she knew Jane would consider being generous and stepping aside so Elizabeth might have a chance with him, foolish as that might be in every way. “I meant I am envious of your having found someone so perfect for you. I have said so.”
Need she be envious still or had she found a perfect man for herself in Mr Darcy?
“Mr Bingley is so kind. I hope—Lizzy, I fear to say it aloud, but I hope he is the one and that he might offer for me.”
She kissed Jane’s temple. “He would be mad to let you go.”
A knock at the door. Sarah said, “Your mother sent me to ready you for your tea.”
Jane went to the dressing table and surrendered herself to Sarah’s nimble fingers, which could twist and set hair into the most beautiful creations.
Elizabeth went to the dresser and poured water into the plain white basin and took hold of a sponge, washing herself so absently she splashed water on the floor and her gown.
She took the towel and wiped the floor, then realised she had nothing clean to dry her body.
She folded the towel and used the side that was still dry, reprimanding herself for being careless.
She went to the wardrobe and looked at her gowns. Lilac, pink, yellow. Deep green like the ferns and moss in the woods where she had kissed Mr Darcy.
She had kissed Mr Darcy! More importantly, he had kissed her. And kissed her. And what a kiss it had been. Her body burned and she could feel the warmth of his neck against her lips.
She pressed her fingers to her mouth and told herself not to attract attention.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said Sarah, and Elizabeth feared the maid could see the secret written on her face. “Let me button your gown before I do your hair.”
Elizabeth nodded, thinking that, really, the gown should be grey like the sky they could see between the bare branches, but she had no grey dress, and she would not wish to be quite so obvious, either.
As the maid brushed her hair, she thought she might ask that it be left down as it had been when Mr Darcy had reached for it, had taken the strands and held them between his fingers.
No, that would be unwise. The hair must be tucked away as her feelings must be tucked away.
Though the truth was the truth. They had kissed and it had been perfect.