Page 14 of Chasing Shadows
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said with unaffected warmth, “I was but just told of your presence. It is a comfort to know you are here.”
Elizabeth rose and curtsied in greeting.
“I am greatly relieved by Mr. Jones’s report,” Bingley continued, his tone full of solicitude. “He assures me that your sister’s illness is not of a serious nature. Pray be at ease; she shall want for nothing while under this roof.”
Elizabeth inclined her head. “Your kindness does us honour, sir.”
Bingley’s cheer seemed to brighten the chamber itself. “We have only just returned from Barnet,” he explained. “Darcy’s sister has come down to Netherfield. He would have accompanied me here, but felt it necessary first to attend upon her.”
Elizabeth, startled, glanced toward Caroline, but Miss Bingley only composed her features into a placid smile, betraying nothing.
Mrs. Hurst chose that moment to announce that Elizabeth was to remain at Netherfield until her sister’s recovery.
“We have room enough for all,” Bingley said with a smile. “Indeed, it will be far better for Miss Bennet to have you near her.”
With that assurance, he and his sisters excused themselves.
Thus it was settled: Elizabeth would remain at Netherfield. A carriage was dispatched to Longbourn with a note of assurance, and she resumed her place at Jane’s side.
Chapter Eight
Dinner at Netherfield was a large party that evening. Only Jane was absent, too feverish to rise, which left Elizabeth alone to meet the household’s guest: Miss Darcy.
The young lady sat opposite her brother, her posture delicate, her eyes lowered more often than raised. At first glance she was almost forbiddingly shy; but when Colonel Fitzwilliam drew her into conversation, she revealed a gentleness that softened her reserve. Elizabeth, curious, watched her closely, for she could not help but wonder why Darcy had chosen this moment to bring his sister to Hertfordshire.
After inquiries about Jane's health, introductions were made with due civility. However, it was not until the second course that Georgiana addressed Elizabeth directly, quite startling her.
“You are Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” she asked, her voice low but steady.
Elizabeth inclined her head, a smile curving her lips. “I am.”
Georgiana’s gaze brightened. “My brother spoke of you in his letters.”
Elizabeth stilled, her fork arrested midway to her plate. “Indeed?” she managed.
Her eyes flickered at once to Mr. Darcy, who sat straight-backed, his expression unreadable, though his hand tightened faintly about the stem of his glass. Letters. What letters? What had he told her? That she had once defied him at Lucas Lodge? That he had ridden to Longbourn in haste towarn her family, then stayed under their roof in the shadow of danger? Did he speak of her with censure, or with—something else?
Elizabeth recovered herself with an effort, smiling once more at Georgiana. “I hope he wrote nothing but what was favourable.”
Georgiana coloured and lowered her gaze, as though uncertain how to reply. Darcy’s countenance betrayed nothing.
The conversation turned then to lighter topics, Colonel Fitzwilliam carrying much of it with his easy manners, Bingley supporting him with cheerful enthusiasm. Caroline Bingley, however, directed many of her remarks toward Georgiana, her sweetness so exaggerated that Elizabeth could scarcely keep from smiling at the artifice.
After the meal, Elizabeth excused herself to look in upon Jane. She found her sister asleep, her cheeks still flushed but her breathing less troubled. Relieved, she returned downstairs to the drawing room, where the company was gathering around a card table.
“Come, Miss Elizabeth,” cried Miss Bingley with a practised smile. “Will you not join us?”
Elizabeth declared she would rather watch than play.
“Or perhaps you prefer your books to such trifles? Jane has often said how devoted you are to them,” Miss Bingley added, her eyes flicking toward Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth’s own gaze followed, to see Darcy seated apart with a volume of philosophy in his hand. She laughed lightly, realising the barb Miss Bingley intended. “I do read, it is true. But Mary is the great student of our family. My accomplishments are far less diligent.”
Darcy looked up, closing the book upon his finger. “That is unusual. Most young ladies, I believe, read only the gossip bulletins, if they read at all.”
“I can only speak for myself, sir,” Elizabeth replied.
“Pray tell, what do you read?” he asked.
