6. 13 November 1811
ELIZABETH
Elizabeth was smiling as she turned away from the brief interaction with the two gentlemen. She had felt quite proud that she had managed to make Mr Darcy laugh as he had—quite unguarded for a moment, before he was able to rein it in.
She had already seen, in just two very short encounters, that Mr Darcy was not as perfect as Miss Bingley had claimed.
He had been awkward and tongue-tied in the breakfast room—although he had been more polite than she had expected.
She was positive he had noticed the mud on her hem, and the fact that he was wealthy meant that she had anticipated a look of dismay or even disgust at the sight, but instead he had seemed positive…
. Could his expression have indicated appreciation?
Elizabeth laughed at herself, shaking her head at her own silliness.
Charlotte had thought that a man with five thousand a year could not be serious about Jane, even though she was an acknowledged beauty and despite evidence of his devotion: Mr Bingley's expressions and praises, his asking Jane to dance two times in a single ball, his hurry to be by her side whenever he visited.
How dare Elizabeth think for even a moment that a man supposedly worth twice as much would look on her, who nobody had ever claimed as beautiful, with approbation? No doubt his stare meant something altogether different.
Surprisingly, Miss Bingley had not exaggerated about how extremely handsome Mr Darcy was.
If Elizabeth had thought Mr Bingley well-favoured, Mr Darcy was far and away better looking, in her opinion.
Again, she laughed at herself. How had she managed to imagine approval in Mr Darcy’s eyes when he himself was wealthy and handsome, and he must have a thousand beautiful women vying for his attention?
“What are you smiling about, Lizzy?”
Jane’s voice was raspy, and she ended her question with a cough. Elizabeth hurried to give her some water to sip on, and as she checked for fever and other symptoms, she said, “Oh, it is just that your Mr Bingley is so anxious for you. It is so pleasing to see his concern.”
“Did he laugh, in the hallway? I thought I heard…well, I heard something….”
“No, Mr Bingley’s mysterious missing guest has come. Had you heard that his friend Mr Darcy was to stay here?”
“Oh, yes, I had heard that.”
“Anyway, it was Mr Darcy who laughed in the hallway. I made…well, a sort of jesting remark. Mr Darcy laughed.”
And, she remembered, Mr Bingley had looked a bit confused.
“I am confused,” Jane mumbled. Elizabeth smiled to think that Mr Bingley and Jane would do very well together.
“What can I do about that cough, Jane? You said you were not hungry, but how about some tea and honey?
Her sister agreed. Soon she was sipping her tea and managing to look prettier while blowing her nose than most ladies looked dressed for a ball.
Elizabeth began reading aloud to Jane, and when her sister fell asleep she continued to read silently to herself, sipping at her own tea and nibbling the rolls that had been brought up for her.
She settled in, knowing that Jane’s colds often lingered and sometimes became lung infections. Elizabeth would have to watch her carefully, as Jane never complained, even when she ought to.