Chapter 10

When Bingley, Hurst and Darcy returned from their Tuesday evening dinner with the Militia officers it was to discover that not only had Miss Bennet been invited to dinner by the two Bingley sisters, she was still there. She had travelled to Netherfield Park on horseback and the weather had turned inclement on the ride. Arriving wet, she had succumbed to a cold and was now abed upstairs with a fever. Bingley was immediately worried for his ‘angel’ while Darcy noted Miss Bingley’s dismissal of her symptoms as nothing more than a ruse to stay at Netherfield and get closer to her brother.

Late the following morning as the party sat down to a quiet breakfast, the object of his vexation arrived, windblown and bearing the evidence of traipsing the lanes and fields on her journey. After a brief discussion Miss Elizabeth was guided upstairs to attend her sister. Darcy was then subjected to a coarse harangue about Miss Elizabeth from Miss Bingley. He did agree with the underlying point, to walk three miles alone on a windy autumnal day seemed foolhardy, and no he would not expect, or allow, his sister to undertake such a trek. But Caroline Bingley was incapable of making any point without going beyond what was acceptable. And it was for his benefit he knew, bemoaning Miss Elizabeth’s muddy boots and dirty hemline. It was nothing more than her trying to draw an unfavourable comparison between them. It was not like she had to mop and polish the floor, or launder Miss Elizabeth’s petticoat.

Miss Bennet was quite ill, and the local apothecary after checking her symptoms, declared that she should not be moved for several days. Most worrying was her high fever, which would have to be closely monitored. This resulted in Miss Elizabeth joining her sister in residence.

Those were the bald facts of the matter. But Darcy was intrigued as to how Miss Elizabeth would act when in his company for several days. Admittedly she would be spending more of her time above stairs tending to her sister but they would be in each other’s company at some point each day. What he had not factored into his calculations was the behaviour of Miss Bingley.

At supper Miss Elizabeth was isolated beyond Hurst, never much of a conversationalist, and definitely not when there was food on the table. She ignored her somewhat rude placement and upon the separation of the sexes went upstairs to check on her sister. It was later when she returned to the salon that things took a turn to the confrontational. He did not know why Miss Bingley had taken a dislike to Miss Elizabeth, but it was clear that she had.

“Miss Eliza Bennet, how is your sister?”

“She is unchanged, her fever is still high. Miss Bingley, my name is Elizabeth not Eliza.”

Darcy watched Caroline Bingley’s face become pinched and haughty.

“I have heard you call Eliza in company.”

There was a pause, which grew ever more awkward as Miss Elizabeth stared at her silently.

“The young brother of my friend Miss Lucas could not pronounce my name when I was born and thus to the Lucas family I am known as Miss Eliza. One family whom I have known all my life, no one else. My name is Elizabeth.”

Darcy gazed on as Miss Elizabeth coldly stared down Caroline Bingley. Who would avert her gaze first?

“I see.”

Within the first two minutes of Miss Elizabeth arriving in the salon the air had already taken a turn to the frosty. Darcy watched as she took up a book and sat. The best way to describe her was that she was adjacent to the company rather than part of it. Darcy watched as Miss Elizabeth’s lips twitched as she read her book. Although her posture was relaxed, it was clear to anyone with eyes and sense that she was on guard, almost defensive. Of course Miss Bingley, as ever only seeing what she wanted to see, and with precious little sense, would not allow the room to settle.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet” everyone heard the borderline rude emphasis on her first name “your sister was telling Louisa and I about your family.”

Darcy saw Miss Elizabeth’s lips purse, just a momentary grimace. But what was obvious to him, and the rest of the room, was how her jaw set. If a man had reacted like that to him, Darcy would have taken a step back, the tension spoke of imminent violence. She lifted her head and looked at Miss Bingley, no words said, merely a blank stare. A rude hostess had been met by a rude guest. Darcy was in attendance at a private play, or so it seemed. This was utterly different to the charming guest he had observed on other occasions. She still said nothing and merely stared at Caroline Bingley.

“Your parents having only five daughters and with the estate entailed away to a male, it is such a terrible thing.”

Pronounced as if it was the exact opposite. Darcy cast a look to Bingley. He needed to rein in his sister. There were still no words from Miss Elizabeth. Finally.

“It is.”

And with that curt response she returned to her book, ignoring the rest of the company. Darcy wanted to hold his head in his hands, of course Caroline Bingley was not going to leave it at that.

“Whatever will your family do? Charles, Louisa and I would not like to be in that situation. Of course, with Charles, we would not need to worry about such a calamity.”

The false pity, barely concealed gloating, echoed round the room. Darcy observed Miss Elizabeth close her book, after carefully placing a bookmark.

“My family will survive, as it has in the past. We have been custodians of the Longbourn Estate for more than 250 years, since the reign of Edward VI. Tell me Miss Bingley, how long has your family owned an estate?”

Darcy subconsciously leaned back in his chair. Miss Elizabeth had not backed down one iota and had ruthlessly responded. He watched Caroline Bingley switch between several different shades of red, all unbecoming. She was spluttering incoherently and it was Mrs. Hurst who had to respond.

“We were talking of the present and the future not of the past Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

“Which one of you is Cassandra?”

This apparent non-sequitur confused both sisters. Darcy looked sharply at Bingley. He at least would know of what she spoke.

“I do not think either of my sisters claim to be a seer, Miss Elizabeth.”

Miss Elizabeth turned her head and acknowledged Bingley’s comment. She then calmly returned to her book.

“Hurst, Darcy, what say you to a game of cards?”

Bingley’s light cheerful tone rang hollow in the room. Regardless, both other men were moving to the card table with alacrity. But the moment of peace was shattered, inevitably, by Caroline Bingley. Once again demonstrating a breathtaking lack of sense she continued to bait Miss Elizabeth.

“Miss Bennet also told my sister and me about your uncles in trade. One is the local solicitor while the other lives in London. She did not tell us where in London before she fell ill. Can you enlighten us?”

There was no warmth in Caroline Bingley’s voice just a sneering one-upmanship as she tried to force a point over Miss Elizabeth. Who with a sigh once again closed her book. Rather than respond to Caroline Bingley she looked at her brother.

“Mr. Bingley, did your father have a brother named Paul?”

Darcy had no idea where this was going.

“Why yes Miss Elizabeth he did. How did you know?”

“I met a Mr. Paul Bingley at my uncle’s office in Cheapside. He was there to talk to my uncle about the export of the carriages his firm produces. I wondered if Mr. Paul Bingley was your uncle.”

Darcy watched Caroline Bingley’s face as her brother undercut all her poorly thought through efforts. He could tell that later Bingley was going to feel the sharp edge of his sister’s tongue.

“Yes, he is my uncle. I sold my share of the business to him 18 months ago. Did you have a chance to talk with him?”

“I did not get the opportunity. He was meeting my uncle and it was just a brief introduction. If you will excuse me I am going to check on Jane and retire for the evening. Good night.”

And with that she was gone, never having answered Caroline Bingley directly. Darcy marvelled at how she had tied her uncle and Miss Bingley’s uncle together. But with Miss Elizabeth gone for the evening Miss Bingley was free to disparage her without restraint. She took full advantage but she was so unrelenting that all three gentlemen soon retreated to the billiard room to escape her.

For the next two days there was little sign of Miss Elizabeth. Miss Bennet’s fever remained stubbornly high and as a consequence Miss Elizabeth ate all her meals bar breakfast in her chambers. What Darcy quickly realised was that Miss Elizabeth only ate breakfast in the dining room because she knew that neither of the Bingley sisters were awake at an early hour.

The first morning after her arrival Darcy woke before dawn and was out for a ride barely after the gloom of the pre-dawn had lightened. It was good to feel the brisk autumn air and even better to have some peace from Netherfield. Upon his return he bathed and dressed before descending to the dining room. He felt he had earned a hearty breakfast. He opened the well-oiled door and was surprised to see Bingley already there, reading the paper. At least he assumed it was Bingley until the noise of his entrance had Miss Elizabeth lowering the paper to see who had joined her.

“Good morning Miss Elizabeth. Is there any improvement in your sister?”

“Mr. Darcy. Sadly she is unchanged, the fever is still worryingly high. My maid is with her at present.”

Darcy nodded and walked to the sideboard to prepare a plate of food. Given the conversation with Colonel Forster he was not surprised to see her reading the newspaper. Although he noted that she had carefully refolded it now that he was there. What also struck him was the word ‘my’ when describing the maid. Not ‘a’ maid, or even ‘our’ maid, but ‘my’ maid. One more thing that was just a little off about Miss Elizabeth. His rambling thoughts were brought to a sudden halt.

“If you will excuse me Mr. Darcy, I shall return to my sister.”

With another of her barely there curtseys she was off. And Darcy was the only person of the Netherfield Party who saw her all day. She requested her lunch and supper in her rooms. It would have been too much to hope that Miss Elizabeth’s absence would drain the anger from Miss Bingley. Instead the exact opposite occurred, she continued to cast aspersions about the lady, to the point that she drove the three men to retreat, once again, to the billiard room. It was sad to see, and hear.

The following morning, by now it was the Friday, followed an identical pattern to that of the day before. Upon his return from his morning ride Darcy found Miss Elizabeth in the dining room reading the paper. But his arrival triggered her own departure. Even their brief conversation was all but identical. And neither Bennet sister was seen for the rest of the day.

--

Friday was the day that Jane’s fever broke and Elizabeth could finally relax, her sister would survive and they could escape from Netherfield Park shortly. Unbeknownst to the other occupants, Elizabeth had not travelled the three miles from Longbourn alone on the Wednesday morning. Claire and Robert had faithfully accompanied her. Once there, and realising that it would be a stay of several days, Robert assisted in the stables, out of the way, while Claire had looked after Elizabeth and Jane, not imposing that burden on the Netherfield Park staff. Elizabeth held off informing their host of Jane’s recovery until after dinner. Rather than inform Mr. Bingley personally she merely wrote a short note to let him know that Jane’s fever had broken and that Elizabeth expected her to make a rapid recovery. Elizabeth had no interest in spending any time with Miss Bingley.

The next morning Darcy dressed as usual for riding but even just walking to the stables he saw that it was far too wet to ride. It was the sort of weather that could injure a horse and there was no need to take such a risk. He quickly returned to the Manor. As a result he was in the dining room to break his fast much earlier than either of the previous days. And he finally got the chance to have a substantive conversation with Miss Elizabeth.

“Good morning Miss Elizabeth. I was pleased to hear that your sister is much improved.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Good morning to you too.”

Darcy had to suppress a smile. This was the first time she had wished him a good morning. He indicated to the footman to pour him a cup of coffee whilst he prepared a plate. He spotted that Miss Elizabeth had turned the newspaper to read the front page but she had not picked it up.

“Please, do not let me change your routine. If you wish to read the paper then please go ahead.”

There was no false ‘are you sure’ rather a small smile and nod of her head. When he joined her at the table Elizabeth had the paper unfolded in front of her but had not lifted it up to obscure him from view. He did not immediately engage her in conversation but rather ate his meal while covertly observing her. Once he had finished his food, and with a fresh cup of coffee, he quietly asked her a question.

“Is there something that you are particularly interested in? Do you have a relative in the army with Viscount Wellington on the Peninsula?”

Elizabeth shook her head, before a grimace briefly marred her face.

“No, as you are aware from Miss Bingley, I have no brothers. My cousins are still too young. The reason I devour the newspaper each day is to keep a clear picture in my head of the situation.”

Darcy was intrigued at this partial explanation.

“To what purpose?”

He watched Miss Elizabeth appraise him, and was pleasantly surprised at the warm feeling he received when she responded.

“I have been hostess at several dinners where various officers have attended. Of them, by far the most memorable was one four months ago. One of the guests in attendance was a Quartermaster Captain in the 7 th battalion of the King’s German Legion. He had recently returned to Britain from Spain having been wounded at the Battle of Fuentes de Onoro.”

Darcy found himself leaning forward, fascinated as to where this tale was going. His cousin did not go into such detail when he talked of his exploits.

“He had been in Portugal and Spain for a year, and had been involved in the retreat to the Lines of Torres Vedras and the subsequent Battle of Sobral. As you can imagine the other guests, myself included, were eager to hear the stories of the battles. What surprised us all was that he talked about provisions.”

“Provisions?”

“As a response to our victory at Talavera in ’09 the French invaded Portugal in ’10. I am sure you are aware of this. The army retreated to the Lines of Torres Vedras, and defeated the French at Sobral. Again, I am sure you know this, it has been extensively reported. But what this Captain explained was that in March the French retreated because they were starving. According to him, and I checked in our atlas, Fuentes de Onoro is nearly 200 miles away, on the Spanish border. We drove the French back 200 miles without a battle. And it was all down to the British and Portuguese having supplies and the French having none. According to rumours the French lost a third of their troops in those six months.

“What made the evening captivating for me was listening to someone who understand provisions. How much food and water is needed for each man, each day. And the same for horses and other animals. My uncle has been involved in supplying and shipping grain and animals to the Peninsula for several years but it was this Captain who broke it down to how much food and water was needed by the Army every day. I had seen the big picture, as is reported in the newspapers, but this was the detail every battalion and regiment have to know. If the Army is starving they retreat, as demonstrated by the French.”

Elizabeth looked at Darcy sheepishly, a slight flush to her cheeks.

“I am good at arithmetic, and help with the ledgers. Such descriptions and detailed explanations captivate my interest.”

Darcy sat there utterly enthralled yet conflicted at the same time. Here was an intelligent woman, incredibly well read, and interested in obscure aspects of the war in the Peninsula. She could also speak knowledgeably about them. What was also clear was that these obscure aspects were fundamental to successfully defeating Napoleon. Yet at the same time she, once again, made no secret of the fact that her uncle was in trade, and that she even assisted him. Before he could respond Miss Elizabeth stood up in preparation for leaving.

“If you will excuse me, I will go and check on Jane. We may see you at dinner this evening, assuming she is well enough to attend.”

He had barely got to his feet to bow before she was out of the room. Darcy retreated to the library, yet another cup of coffee to hand, and thought about Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

If it had not been for the full cup of coffee he would have thrown his hands up. He thought through all of the woman of his acquaintance, trying to compare Miss Elizabeth to any of them. The closest he could find in his mental review were the wives of senior government officials, be they civilian or military. None of them had spoken as Miss Elizabeth had, at least in his hearing, but he suspected that they were privy to the thoughts of their husbands.

He stopped for a moment. What made Miss Elizabeth unique was her openness. She was not the wife of a cabinet Minister or General, such ladies were expected to be utterly discreet, and blabbing secrets would ruin the family. Rather she was the opposite of Miss Bingley, and everyone like her. She openly talked of her uncle in trade, had an interest in the war and current affairs, and came across as something of a blue stocking.

Another pause in Darcy’s thinking occurred. The classic example of a blue stocking lady was one who was on the shelf. The words bandied about at his club to accompany the phrase were old, ugly and shrewish. Miss Elizabeth was none of those things, she was just different. Darcy stood and paced back and forth in the library. He had thought almost daily about Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and had paid more attention to her than any other lady in the neighbourhood. He knew that she was interesting, more than that, fascinating. Now he had a different concern. Had he raised her expectations?

He spent the rest of the day fretting about exactly that.

--

“Do you have a moment, Miss Elizabeth?”

Claire stood at the servant’s door of her bedroom.

“Of course, come in.”

“Thank you. You need to be aware that Miss Bingley has been questioning the staff extensively about you.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow.

“I imagine she is not concerned for my welfare.”

Claire smiled and shook her head. The smile left her face.

“No, it is more insidious than that. She found out that you have not been in Hertfordshire for the last four years, and that you had been staying with your uncle in London.”

“It is not a secret. She knows my uncle is in trade and resides in Cheapside.”

“You have met her, you have seen what she is like. I believe you should be on guard.”

Elizabeth sighed.

“I wish I knew why she is so bothered about me. I do not recall having any conversation with her until Jane took sick here. I just want to ignore her, and I wish she would do me the same courtesy.”

Claire did not say anything, just nodded and took her leave. Elizabeth walked down the hall to Jane’s room and was pleased to see that she was much better.

“How are you feeling Jane?”

“Much better Lizzie. I know the fever lasted several days but, oh I do not know, it seems as if the fever burned away any other illnesses. I feel much better, and despite a large breakfast and a healthy lunch, still have an appetite for dinner.”

“That is excellent. Do you feel up to attending church in the morning?”

Jane nodded vigorously.

“Then this evening ask Mr. Bingley if he will drive us to church and we can walk home to Longbourn with Papa, Mama and our sisters after the service. One of the grooms can come over and collect Buttercup.”

“I will. Come, let us join the others.”

Dinner was a repeat of Wednesday evening. Elizabeth was again at the end of the table with only Hurst on her right. Conversation was limited as he tackled all the courses with gusto. Jane had tried to include her at several points but Mr. Bingley, unwittingly, and Miss Bingley, deliberately, had negated her efforts. At one point Elizabeth had to smile as she recalled the dinners she had referenced with Darcy that morning. She had no illusions of being a sophisticated hostess but her first efforts were better than anything Miss Bingley had demonstrated. The separation of the sexes, when reviewed later, was the calm before the storm. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst monopolised Jane’s attention and Elizabeth was left on her own. But Bingley was in a hurry to attend his ‘angel’ and the separation was not long. As the three gentlemen rejoined the party Elizabeth’s attention was drawn to a painting on the wall. Everyone was taking their seats but she walked over to the painting, trying to see who the artist was. The subject was the Eruption of Mount Vesuvius, and the plaque on the frame noted it was the work of a Joseph Wright.

“Miss Eliza Bennet, what are you looking at?”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed. Turning she retook her seat facing Miss Bingley.

“I see that despite being asked not to call me that name, you insist on continuing. You obviously take delight in shortening people’s names.”

The fire was raging in the hearth but Darcy shivered. This was not going to be good.

“Caroline. Caro? No too obvious.”

Elizabeth was mumbling under her breath.

“C-A-R-O-L-I-N-E. Remove the beginning and the end, R-O-L-I. Yes, that will do.”

Elizabeth looked up at Miss Bingley, a smile of breathtaking duplicity on her face.

“To answer your original question Miss Roli, I was looking at the painting on the wall. I thought that was self-evident.”

It took all of Darcy’s iron control to stifle his gasp, and his laughter. Four of the other five people in the room failed at the first and Hurst failed to stop his laughter. Miss Bingley’s face could no longer be described as red, it had passed right through crimson and was now solidly scarlet. Her tone when she spoke reminded Darcy of Mrs. Bennet.

“Do not call me Roli. My name is Caroline. And it is Miss Bingley to you.”

Elizabeth did not appear ruffled in the slightest.

“My name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Darcy could not believe how calm she appeared. As she had before she picked up her book and started to read it, blithely unconcerned for anyone else.

“Charles! Charles! Are you going to let her speak to me that way?”

“Er, well, I mean...”

Darcy watched Bingley flounder around. He had never stood up to his sister but he was trapped. Yes Miss Elizabeth had been rude to his sister but they all knew that it was merely a reaction to the first slight, that caused by Caroline Bingley. As he fumbled about it became embarrassing. He was saved by Miss Elizabeth herself.

“I am sorry Mr. Bingley for making the party uncomfortable.”

For Darcy another smile, closer to a smirk, had to be suppressed.

“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth.”

Darcy watched Bingley retreat to the gentle words of his ‘angel’. He also watched the seething mass of anger that was Caroline Bingley. Louisa Hurst had placed a hand on her sister’s wrist and he could see that she was trying to calm her down.

20 minutes later Darcy wished that Mrs. Hurst had not calmed her sister as her response had been a nauseating display of social climbing. Events were listed, people were named, the way Caroline Bingley spun the tale she was a fixture of the first circles. Whatever reaction she expected to get from Miss Elizabeth, she was disappointed. Darcy watched as she occasionally quirked her lips slightly but other than that she ignored Miss Bingley’s monologue. Darcy got so bored that he took up station at the escritoire and started a letter to his sister. He deflected Miss Bingley’s repeated attempts to gain his attention.

“I understand Miss Elizabeth Bennet that you have only recently returned to Hertfordshire.”

“That is true.”

Darcy’s quill paused and he turned his head to watch the next salvo in the battle between Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bingley.

“How long were you absent?”

Between different people, and with a different tone, this was an innocuous question. But here the intent was anything but innocuous.

“Several years.”

“How many years?”

Darcy knew that when Miss Elizabeth carefully placed her bookmark and closed her book it was not a good sign. He snorted, internally of course, at his hubris, as it was based on one other evening. Hardly much of a sample.

“Does it matter? I am here now and did not know you five weeks ago.”

“You seem to be very secretive about it. Do you have something to hide?”

Darcy’s head whipped round to Bingley, he needed to stop this now. But he was not even paying attention, his focus still on Miss Bennet.

“It is not a secret, merely a family matter.”

Darcy watched Miss Bingley’s face. There was no mask on earth that could hide her malicious smirk.

“Are you missing your uncle? After all you” pause “lived with him” another pause “for four years.”

Darcy had to stop himself rising to his feet. For gentlemen to speak thus would have resulted in a duel, regardless of the topic or that duelling was illegal. This was the rudest thing Darcy had ever heard with his own ears. And what Caroline Bingley was implying was disgusting. Bingley had to do something. But before anything could be said Miss Elizabeth rose to her feet. Darcy had never seen a woman hit another but he suspected that was about to change. He watched in astonishment as Miss Elizabeth performed an elaborate court courtesy in front of Miss Bingley.

“I had not realised that we were in the presence of royalty.”

Darcy knew Miss Elizabeth was intelligent and well-read but once again she had managed to confuse him with her response.

“What do you mean?”

Caroline Bingley was equally confused.

“I had not realised that the Hapsburgs were in exile in Great Britain. After all, only they would think of acting in such a disgusting manner. Although I expect they have better manners than to imply it out loud.”

Darcy watched Caroline Bingley try to fathom how to respond. He was not sure he could have formed a cogent reply either.

“And such prominent Catholics as well. Mayhap, are you an agent of a foreign power? The self-styled Henri IX finally died only four years ago. To whom do you owe your allegiance?”

Darcy’s stoic resolve finally gave in, he too gasped. Caroline Bingley had implied Miss Elizabeth had engaged in incest with her uncle but her response was to accuse Miss Bingley of treason, supporting the Jacobite cause in Hanoverian Britain.

“I am as English as you. How dare you accuse me of such things.”

Elizabeth looked at Bingley but it was clear he had no control over his sister and would say nothing. She looked at her own sister staring at her with a shocked expression. When she looked at Darcy she could not read his expression but he held her gaze. With a brief nod to Darcy Elizabeth quietly left the room. Once in her own chambers she quickly called for Claire.

“Go and find Robert, I would like to talk to you both.”

10 minutes later the three of them were in Elizabeth’s bedroom. She recounted the evening, a task of not many minutes as there were long stretches where nothing significant happened. The last 15 minutes of the evening were the key ones.

“She really accused you of, I mean of….”

Saving them all from saying it out loud Elizabeth nodded.

“She was careful in her phrasing but there was a significant pause, and a malicious smirk, both before and after the phrase ‘lived with him’.”

Robert laughed, a low rumbling sound.

“So you responded by calling her a traitor.”

“Yes, I mocked her with a deep courtesy, then called her a Hapsburg for what she implied. Even they are not so cavalier with consanguinity. I did not call her a Catholic but did ask if she was working for a foreign power. Oh and I mentioned the Young Pretender’s brother who died four years ago.”

Claire joined her husband in laughing.

“So you implied that she was a Jacobite as well?”

Elizabeth nodded while smirking.

“So what is your plan?”

“We are leaving at first light. If Jane returns to her room before I retire then I will tell her direct. If not, then I will leave a note. We will walk back to Longbourn.”

She went to the window.

“At least it has stopped raining. Staying to the paths adds more than a mile to the journey but it will be significantly drier and cleaner.”

She smiled at her friends, who happened to be her staff.

“So are you ready for a four mile walk?”

There was a knock at the door.

“Lizzie?”

Robert quietly left via the servants’ stairs and Claire let Jane Bennet into the room.

“How are you Jane?”

Elizabeth got there first before her sister could say anything.

“I am mortified at the whole evening. I know Miss Bingley should not have spoken thus to you but did you need to make it so much worse?”

“You think I made it worse?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Well I am leaving at first light. Claire and Robert will be with me. I will see you at church.”

Elizabeth’s face was a mask, blank and bland. But her heart was saddened at her sister’s reaction. And her mind was raging.

“That is all you are going to say after upsetting Mr. Bingley’s sister?”

“We can talk about this tomorrow when we return to Longbourn. Claire will assist you in preparing for bed.”

When Claire returned to Elizabeth’s room she had not moved. Claire said nothing about Elizabeth’s red eyes or the damp handkerchief in her hand.