Page 97 of A Most Beloved Sister
“Better than I expected,” Louisa replied. “He is sad, of course, but at peace. He knew it was coming, and he is just grateful for the time they’ve been able to spend together.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears. “I am so glad to hear it,” she whispered.
“Well, I will leave you to change and freshen up. You know your way around, of course—this is your home. Charles knows to expect you in Jane’s room whenever you are ready. Dinner is at the usual time.”
∞∞∞
An hour later, Elizabeth knocked softly on the door to Jane’s chambers. The door opened, and instead of the expected nursemaid, Bingley stood on the other side.
“Lizzy!” he exclaimed, beaming.
Without hesitation, he pulled her in for a hug, then stepped back and motioned for her to enter. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you that,” he said as he led her through the room and to the bed. “Jane speaks of you so often using that term that I cannot think of you as anything but!”
She laughed. “As long as you don’t call me Eliza—that’s reserved for the Lucases!”
Bingley helped her into a chair near the head of Jane’s bed, where she sat propped up against several stuffed pillows. The nurse sat on the other side, gently spooning broth into Jane’s mouth. Jane’s eyes were closed, and Elizabeth gave Bingley a concerned frown.
In response to her unspoken question, he leaned forward and gently touched her hand. “Jane, my love, Lizzy is here.”
Jane’s eyes fluttered open, and a gentle smile graced her lips. “Lizzy, you came,” she murmured drowsily. “I missed you so much!”
“I missed you too, Jane,” Elizabeth said, fighting back tears.
“I’ll leave you two to your visit,” he said. “Send a footman if you need me.”
He pressed a gentle kiss on Jane’s brow, then left the room. Jane watched him go with a besotted look. “Isn’t he wonderful, Lizzy? I have the best husband in the entire world.”
“I’m so glad to hear he’s making you happy,” Elizabeth replied. “Tell me all about what it’s like to be married!”
Jane rambled on for a quarter of an hour about playing Spillikins, being read aloud to, and cuddling in front of the fire in their shared sitting room. To Elizabeth’s relief, if there was any kind of physical intimacy beyond kissing, her married state was enjoyable enough that Jane had no cause to repine.
Elizabeth could almost believe that they were enjoying a normal afternoon together were it not for Jane’s long, gasping pauses to take deep breaths every few words. She tried a few times to put an end to the conversation, but Jane’s unique stubbornness came to the forefront, forcing Elizabeth to listen quietly.
When at last Jane had sated her need to share every single detail of her marital bliss, she leaned back deeper into the pillows and closed her eyes. “Now, Lizzy, I want to hear everything that happened in London.”
Relieved that Jane would no longer tire herself with speaking, Elizabeth launched into story after story of the children at the disabilities home, causing Jane to giggle in delight or exclaim in shock, depending on the story. Once Elizabeth finished describing the abandoned and orphaned children, she then moved on to her adventures with her cousins, the society she experienced with her aunt and uncle, and the new sights and entertainment in which she had participated.
She finally ran out of anecdotes to share and fell silent. Jane opened one eye and peered at her sister. “What about Mr. Darcy?”
Shocked, Elizabeth could only stare at her sister. She had intentionally excluded any mention of the tall gentleman from Derbyshire, as she was not yet ready to share the swirl of emotions she experienced when she thought of him. “How did you know?”
“Charles told me.”
“How didheknow?”
“Mr. Darcy told him in a letter, silly!” Jane giggled.
Elizabeth was shocked. Although she had begun to recognize her tender feelings for Darcy—indeed, she almost felt as though she were in a fair way of falling in love with him—she had yet to discuss those emotions with anyone. Even her aunt Gardiner, who had given her several knowing looks each time she had returned from an outing with Darcy, did not know many more details than the fact that they were friends.
The very idea that Darcy thought enough about their time spent together to write to Bingley about it…
A private person like Darcy wouldn’t share something of this nature with a close friend unless he were truly earnest in his attentions.
Would he?
“Do you like him, Lizzy?”
Jane’s question broke through Elizabeth’s thoughts, yanking her from London and back into Hertfordshire. “What, Jane?”
