Page 32 of Attempted Compromises
“Of course you are,” said Darcy from behind her.
Darcy had walked out to find his son, his concern rising after noticing Andrew’s absence from the nursery. Caroline had appeared almost immediately, insisting on accompanying him.
“You really ought to speak with Miss Elizabeth about your son,” Caroline said with a feigned air of helpfulness. “She seems to have taken quite the interest in him. Perhaps she hopes for more than mere acquaintance.”
Darcy said nothing, his patience wearing thin as Caroline continued.
“She does have remarkable eyes, I’ll grant her that,” Caroline added with a sly glance. “Though I wonder how her poor connections would look hung on the walls at Pemberley next to your illustrious ancestors. Just imagine, the portraits of tradesman and a solicitor hanging on the walls next to your uncle the earl and your great-grandfather the duke.”
“I believe you give far too much attention to such matters, Miss Bingley,” Darcy said, his tone clipped.
Caroline pressed her lips together in mock chastisement but followed him closely as they turned the corner.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth straightened at the words from Mr. Darcy, her smile faltering slightly at the sight of Caroline beside him. Before she could greet them, Andrew let out a small gasp and darted behind her skirts, clutching the fabric tightly.
“Andrew?” Darcy’s brows knit together in concern as he stepped forward.
Elizabeth instinctively rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder, her voice soothing. “It’s all right, Master Andrew. No one will hurt you.”
Rebecca hurried forward, but the boy shook his head and buried his face further into Elizabeth’s gown, his little hands trembling. “Scary,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Caroline frowned, then twisted her lips up into what Elizabeth could only assume was an attempt at a smile, though it appeared more like a sinister leer. “Really, Andrew. There’s no need to hide like that. Come here, child, and you’ll see that I’m not scary.”
He let out a whimper. “Scary lady,” he said again, his tone more urgent.
What did she do to this poor boy?Elizabeth wondered angrily. Taking a calming breath, she turned to Caroline, her voice respectful but firm. “Miss Bingley, I believe he is frightened. Perhaps it would be best if you allowed him some space.”
Caroline’s eyes narrowed, her cheeks flushing with indignation. “I have no idea what you mean, Miss Elizabeth. Children do not behave this way around me. They love me. Besides, he’s only a child; it’s all in his imagination.”
Elizabeth’s expression remained steady. “Children can feel more than we give them credit for,” she replied calmly. “Perhaps it’s your tone or your gestures, but he’s clearly upset. . Please, give him some space.”
Caroline sniffed, her indignation evident. “If you insist.” With a dramatic huff, she turned on her heel and stalked back toward the house, muttering about “ungrateful guests” and “spoiled children.”
Darcy remained silent, his gaze shifting between Elizabeth and his son. Andrew’s grip on her skirts loosened slightly, and Elizabeth crouched down again, speaking softly to him.
“There now,” she said gently. “All is well. Your papa is here.”
He looked around her anxiously.
“Andrew,” Darcy said gently. “It’s all right, my boy. I’m here. Come here.”
Elizabeth stood up, moving aside as Andrew ran to his father, who knelt and gathered the boy into his arms. Brushing off her skirts, she said with her cheeks faintly pink. “I hope I did notoverstep, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her tone hesitant. “I only wished to ease his fear.”
“You did nothing of the sort,” Darcy replied, his voice low but sincere. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth, for handling it with such care.”
Elizabeth nodded, her embarrassment deepening. She turned to Rebecca with a quick smile. “I’ll leave you to your afternoon. Thank you for letting me join your game, Master Andrew.”
Rebecca watched her retreat, shaking her head slightly. “That is an impressive lady,” she said softly, her tone filled with admiration. “I’ve never met anyone quite like her.”
Darcy said nothing, his gaze lingering on Elizabeth’s retreating figure, a quiet agreement forming in his mind.
∞∞∞
That evening, Jane joined the household in the drawing room for tea after dinner, leaning heavily on the maid’s arm. Bingley immediately went to her side, offering his arm with an eager smile that made Jane’s cheeks flush with warmth. He guided her to a comfortable chair by the fire, fussing over the arrangement of the cushions and ensuring she had sufficient blankets to be warm.
Jane accepted his attentions with gentle gratitude, her soft smile and quiet replies drawing him into a low-voiced conversation.Their quiet conversation filled the space with a pleasant hum, punctuated occasionally by Bingley’s light laughter and Jane’s soft, measured responses.
