Page 7

D id I tell you I hired a new clerk for the store?”

“No.”

“Her name is Jane Bennet.”

Elizabeth stood just inside the screen door of the butcher’s shop, which was unusually crowded for a Tuesday.

Her ears pricked up, hearing her sister’s name from the lips of Netherfield’s proprietor, Mr. Bingley.

She could see his silhouette and she recognized the other as Mr. Darcy, waiting on the porch for their orders.

“Yes, she’s quite the find,” Mr. Bingley continued.“Learns quickly—according to Caroline—good at counting change, and pleasant to the customers.”

“Mmph.”

Elizabeth smiled at Mr. Bingley’s praise of Jane and scowled at Mr. Darcy’s grumble.

“She’s awfully pretty, too, and very sweet. She comes from a family of five sisters. If they’re all as angelic as Jane, you should have a look, Darcy.”

“I’m too old to be ogling skinny former flapper girls down on their luck.”

Elizabeth heard Mr. Bingley’s patronizing smile in his voice. “Now, now, you’re never too old to look. Who knows? You might find a woman to suit you yet.”

“Unlikely.” Mr. Darcy leaned against the porch rail, hands crammed in his trouser pockets. “Take care, Bingley. Times are hard. There are plenty of desperate women out there who would do their royal best to snare a gullible man with a little money. You’d do well to keep that in mind.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows raised into her hairline, her blood on low boil. That man is insufferable, conceited, and arrogant beyond all belief! To say those things about Jane without even meeting her first!

“Miss Bennet?” the butcher called. “Your order.” He laid a package wrapped in heavy paper on the counter and gave her a flirtatious wink. “I put an extra soup bone in there.”

Elizabeth reached over and grabbed her parcel. With a prim smile she said, “Thank you very much, sir.” She punched the screen door and went outside, reveling in her grim satisfaction that both men were taken aback at the sight of her.

Mr. Bingley gave her a nervous smile as she went past, which she returned, but she shot Mr. Darcy a withering glare.

He didn’t flinch, but she could feel his eyes on her back as she reached the end of the porch and descended the steps.

She turned back to toss one last haughty look over her shoulder, only to find him still watching her.

Mr. Bingley’s cheeks were red, and he was whispering urgently to his friend.

Elizabeth marched off down the street toward her uncle’s vet office, trying to put Mr. Darcy and his uppity manners out of her mind.

“Lizzy?” Jane called upstairs later that evening. “Are you up there?”

“Yes. I’m reading.”

“Can I come up?”

“Of course.”

Elizabeth heard Jane running up the steps. Her sister opened the door and sat down on the bed, her eyes shining.

“You’ll never believe what’s happened!

Elizabeth laid her book down. “Probably not. Did the pigs get in the garden again? Or the goat chewed through his rope and ran off? Or did Kitty and Lydia drop the eggs?”

“No, you goose. I’ve got a message.” She waved a piece of paper in the air.

“From who?”

“Miss Caroline.”

“Do you mean Mr. Bingley’s aunt?Good lord, Jane, does she really make you call her ‘Miss Caroline’?She can’t be any more than thirty-five or forty years old.”

“I can’t very well call her Miss Bingley, can I?

Then I’d always be confusing her with Miss Louisa.

” Jane shook her head, batting that topic away with the letter in her hand.

“Anyway, the Bingleys are hosting a dance at their home on November twenty-sixth. Apparently, they have this event every year around Thanksgiving, and Miss Louisa and Miss Caroline hired me to sew their new dresses for the party.”

“A seamstress job—that’s good.”

“Yes!They want us to come out to Netherfield Hall and stay the week while we work on the dresses.”

“We?”

“Well, I said it might take me quite a while to sew two dresses, and Miss Caroline suggested I bring one of my sisters to help. Please, will you come?”

“Oh, Jane, I don’t know. I—”

“Please? It won’t be a lot of hand sewing. I know you hate that. They have a treadle sewing machine.”

“What about my job at Uncle Ed’s office?”

“I bet he can spare you for a few days at least, and Mary can fill in. I don’t want to go on my own.”

“Are you afraid of being alone with the dashing Mr. Bingley?”

Jane blushed. “No, of course not. I just want some company and some help.Come on. Say you’ll do it.”

Elizabeth considered. She would love to see the inside of the Bingleys’ home. Charlotte described it as a mansion, and Elizabeth wondered if her friend was exaggerating. Still, for this part of the country, she supposed it might be considered fancy.

“Well, all right.”

Jane clapped her hands and bounced on the bed, dislodging Elizabeth and almost making her fall to the floor.

“Oh, thank you! I know you won’t be sorry.”

“We’ll see about that,” Elizabeth mumbled as Jane ran downstairs to give the news to her mother.