Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A s Elizabeth perched in the window seat of their lodgings, a sound from the yard drew her away from her novel. It was a well-worn copy of one of Mrs Radcliffe's—a choice inspired by Mr Gardiner's joke from the evening before—and utterly shocking. However, even the mystery of what was hidden behind the black veil paled in comparison to the identity of her visitors.

She looked out just in time to see a large, shiny black carriage pull up to the front of the inn and stop there, presumably with the intention of releasing its passengers. She vaguely supposed that they must be fellow travellers like herself, possibly only stopping in for a spot of tea before getting back on the road since it was still so early in the day. She watched as the servants scurried to open the door and a gentleman stepped out.

Mr Darcy! Elizabeth gasped, the book falling to the ground with a thud in front of her.

She continued to observe as Mr Darcy reached back inside and withdrew a delicate gloved hand, which foretold the emergence of his sister. Behind Miss Darcy, Mr Bingley hopped from the conveyance with a burst of boisterousness.

As the party approached the door to the inn, it occurred to Elizabeth that she needed to be prepared for their arrival, and she virtually tumbled out of the window seat. She picked up the book, straightened her posture, and shook out her skirts—hoping they were not too wrinkled for receiving company—then patted her hair. She made a hasty inspection of herself in the looking glass above the hearth and lamented that she was wearing her blue-striped muslin rather than the cabbage-green, which was newer, but there was nothing for it now. Her appearance would simply have to do because she could hear footsteps on the staircase moving her way.

She threw herself onto a sofa just as there was a knock on the door. It swung inwards to reveal Sam, the bearer of ghost stories, followed closely by the party from Pemberley. "Mr Darcy, Miss Darcy, and Mr Bingley, miss," the boy announced.

Elizabeth rose and curtseyed to the group. "Good day."

She received bows and a curtsey in return. "Good day, Miss Bennet," said Mr Darcy, speaking for the rest. "I hope we have not come at an inconvenient time." His eyes darted around the room as if looking for the missing Gardiners.

"Not at all. My aunt and uncle have gone calling on old acquaintances this morning, and I have stayed behind to read my book. Please, will you not sit?"

The Darcys settled themselves on the sofa directly across from Elizabeth, and Mr Bingley pulled up a chair to her left. They exchanged various pleasantries, commented on the local rumours of an impending break in the temperate weather, canvassed the travails of their recent travels, and generally said nothing of particular consequence. She and Mr Bingley were the principal speakers and the Darcys the principal listeners, and they passed several minutes in this fashion.

When the conversation lapsed into a natural silence, Mr Darcy cleared his throat, and Elizabeth turned to him with nervous anticipation of what he might say. However, his sister ventured to speak first. "What are you reading?" She then reddened as if surprised by her own question and looked down to her hands in her lap, which fidgeted with the seam of her glove. A moment later, Miss Darcy stilled her hands and clasped them together as if willing them to behave.

Elizabeth herself was a bit nonplussed but pleasantly so; Miss Darcy seemed a quiet, shy sort of girl, nothing at all like Mr Wickham had once described her. Not that he was a reliable resource, mind. " The Mysteries of Udolpho . It is an old favourite of mine that I have enjoyed often. Do you care for novels?"

Here, she glanced at Mr Darcy. It was not uncommon for gentlemen, especially those with the charge of young ladies, to disapprove of novels for their fanciful bent and lack of intellectual worth. While some could be fairly derided in this fashion, not all were so empty of virtue and were really quite wonderful. Elizabeth was not certain whether Mr Darcy was one of these critical gentlemen, but there was no trace of disgust wrinkling his patrician nose.

"Oh, very much!" said Miss Darcy, raising her face. "I have read all of Mrs Radcliffe's, of course, and Belinda , Camilla …I love novels—the more horrid, the better. Though my brother will not allow me The Monk , no matter how much I plead."

"Nor shall I bend," Mr Darcy said with a stern look for his sister. "There are many novels that are well worth perusing, but The Monk is entirely unsuitable for young ladies."

Mr Bingley chuckled. "Terrible book, that one! Read it a few years ago because it was all the rage, but I never understood what all the fuss was about. It is thrilling, I suppose, but I could not understand half of what was going on, and the other half was thoroughly ridiculous. You may have guessed, Miss Bennet," Mr Bingley turned to Elizabeth with a wink, "that I am not as great a fan of novels as my friends here."

"Oh, but it cannot be that horrid. Have you read it, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth gave Mr Darcy an apologetic grimace. "I have, I confess. I borrowed it from my father's library, without his knowledge, and I must say that your brother is correct to keep you from it, particularly at your age. I daresay I did not sleep properly for a week afterwards and came to regret my folly."

Miss Darcy sagged back into her seat with a sigh. "I suppose I shall have to be satisfied on this point. Alas."

Elizabeth pressed her lips together lest she laugh aloud at her visitor, who was posed in an endearingly petulant manner. "There are plenty of novels, as Mr Darcy has already pointed out, that are both suitable and entertaining. Why, I borrowed one last year about a young lady visiting Bath, and it was absolutely delightful. It was rather satirical and…"

And so the conversation continued on the thread of books for some time, largely carried on between Elizabeth and Miss Darcy. Mr Bingley contributed a thought here and there, but as an acknowledged lackadaisical reader, he spoke mostly to tease. Mr Darcy added some more interesting insights, even though he professed a preference for history and poetry over novels, but he encouraged his sister to talk in his stead.

Regardless of who was speaking, Elizabeth could not help directing frequent glances at the dark-haired gentleman across from her. He gazed upon her with a familiar intensity, the air about him fairly crackling with it, even as he deferred to Miss Darcy's enthusiasm. He was perfectly attired in a deep-blue superfine coat, nary a stitch out of place, but she could not help recalling how she had found him yesterday, all wet and hulking and… Goodness, it certainly is hot in here! Positively broiling. I ought to open the window to let some cool air in.

"Miss Bennet?"

The dulcet voice of Miss Darcy recalled Elizabeth to the present, and she shook herself. "Do forgive me, I… What were you saying?"

"Oh, well." Miss Darcy began fiddling with her glove again and glanced at her brother. Mr Darcy nodded encouragement, and she turned back to Elizabeth, apparently determined. "We actually came today to issue an invitation. We are hosting a picnic on Friday by the lake and would be greatly honoured if you and your aunt and uncle would come."

"My sister has made all the arrangements," Mr Darcy added, turning to Miss Darcy with an affectionate turn of his lips. A moment later, his fervent gaze was back on Elizabeth. "There will be luncheon and lawn games, and I daresay it will be a wonderful fête ."

With both Darcys waiting on her answer with palpable enthusiasm for their scheme, Elizabeth could not resist the widening of her smile. "I shall have to confer with my aunt and uncle, but I believe we have no fixed plans. Tentatively, I accept. "

"I do hope you will be able to attend!" said Miss Darcy, lightly bouncing upon her cushion.

Mr Darcy added, "If the good weather holds, it will be a fine day, and the shade by the lake should prove most refreshing."

Coyly, Elizabeth teased, "I well remember."

When the gentleman coughed into his fist, she thought him disguising a laugh.

The moment of levity was broken at the entrance of the Gardiners, who stopped short upon seeing guests awaiting them.

"We have been invited back to Pemberley on Friday," Elizabeth said once the necessities of social intercourse were out of the way. "I could not give them a definite answer without your concurrence, but there is to be a picnic by the lake."

"How delightful!" said Mrs Gardiner, looking to her husband for his approbation before continuing, "We accept gratefully."

Not long after this, Mr Darcy reluctantly declared that the time for their visit had elapsed and they ought to depart. When Elizabeth glanced at the clock, she realised that they had been with her for more than three quarters of an hour. There was another flurry of bows and curtseys before the forms had been exhausted and the party took their leave.

Elizabeth saw them to the door, and while Mr Bingley escorted Miss Darcy down the stairs, Mr Darcy lingered for a few moments longer to press her hand. He said nothing, but his eyes told her much.

Once Mr Darcy too had left, Mrs Gardiner said to her niece, "I hope you are now convinced."

Elizabeth said nothing but turned to hide her smile.