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O n her fourth day at Netherfield, Elizabeth woke to her head no longer throbbingdully inpain, her stomach rumbling for solid food, and her limbs aching for movement.She blinked as she looked around the room, for everything appeared much brighter than it had in the last few days, and forwhat felt like the first time in quite some time, she took a long, deep breath, grinning widely when her lungs no longer felt like they werebeing pressed downby something heavy and invisible.

Elizabeth was sure that there was nothing in the world that she hated more than she hated being ill.

“Good morning, Miss Lizzy.” Hala greeted, entering the chamber through the dressing room next door with a basin and an ewer of warm water for her morning ablutions. Lizzy stretched her stiff bones, sat up on the bed, and watched her abigail as she placed her burdens on the nightstand and pulled open the curtains. The sky seemed to reflect her own mood, for it was bright blue with only a smattering of white fluffy clouds slowing moving east.

“Good morning, Hala. What is the time?”

“‘Tis only a little after eight, ma’am. How are you feeling?”

“Perfectly well.” Elizabeth answered with a grin, standing up and walking to the basin all by herself as if to prove her point, “Look! I feel as light as a feather.” It was not quite the absolute truth, for there still was a lingering ache in her muscles, and some weakness in her body from the inactivity. Elizabeth was sure, however, that a good brisk walk outdoors would set her to rightscompletely,and told Hala just so.

Hala grinned, almost as happy as Elizabeth herself to see her looking so well. Still, she came over to check her mistress’s temperature, and was only truly satisfied when she found her skin just warm enough and her colour high.

“Perhaps you would like to dress and break your fast before you go out frolicking through the grounds of Netherfield Park. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, along with MissBennetoften breakfast together at around nine. The rest of the family seem to keep Town hours and often have trays taken up to their room.”

Breakfast for the past few days had only been cold bone broth or bland milk porridge.Upon giving it a thought, Elizabeth found that even more thana half-hourof exercise, she was looking forward to a proper cup of strong English tea and perhaps a warm,generouslybuttered toast with berry preserves.Eagerly, she agreed to Hala’s suggestion, andthe next half-hour was spentmaking her presentable. Her unexpected sojourn at Netherfield had not been nearly as unpleasant as she had expected it to be due to her abigail’s care and Jane’s and Mr. Darcy’s company, but she was looking forward to returning to Longbourn. Elizabeth had been diligently exchanging letters with her grandmother since she arrived in Hertfordshire, and she could not wait to read the correspondence that was no doubt waiting for her at her uncle’s home.

Once dressed in her morninggown,and with her hair styled in a simple braided chignon, Elizabeth made her way to the breakfast room in high spirits. Already, half of November had gone by, and she would soon be leaving for London in December to prepare for her coming out. Elizabeth was more nervous than excited for the season. Every time she had imagined herselfbeing presentedatcourt;it had always been her mother beside her.Every time she would need to be measured for a new dress, or promenade through Hyde Park during fashionable hours, or visit art galleries and museums, she had always expected that her mother would be by her side— Lady Vivienne’s intelligent eyes taking her measure in a moment and knowing instinctively if she was uncomfortable, or anxious orsimplyintimidated by the people around her.

But her mother would no longer accompany her. It will be her grandmother who would present her atcourt,and her grandmother who would chaperone her at social events. Elizabeth loved her Grandmama Roseline, for she was a warm, gentle creature on whose lap Elizabeth had learned everything that a gentlewoman and a credible mistress of an estate ought to know, but she was not her mother.

“Miss Braxton?”

Elizabeth blinked. She had not realised when she had stopped walking towards the breakfast parlour, and started gazing listlessly at one of the many paintings that adorned the halls of Netherfield’s entrance hall.The landscape was paintedin dull, dour colours, and though the scenery itself was quite pretty-a sparkling river running through rolling hills, with pillowy clouds floating above,the colour palette chosen by the artist gave the scene a rather morose overtone.She turned around to see it was Mr. Darcy who had called her name. Standing on the foot of the grand staircase, he was looking at her a little uncertainly, his brows furrowed and a hand gripping the railing,

“Are you well, madam?”

Visibly, Elizabeth shook off the sudden melancholy that had grippedher,and smiled brightly at her companion, “Yes. Yes, I was just on my way to the breakfast parlour, actually.”

Darcy bowed, then walked over to where she was standing, extending an arm for her to take, “As was I. Will you allow me to escort you?”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

The house was quiet around them as they walked over to the end of the hall. The downstairs servants had opened all the windows and dusted all the trinkets and were now nowhere to be seen. The footmen stationed around the house were sparse and silent.When they entered the morning roomwhere thebreakfastwas usually served, ittoowas emptybutfor a couple ofservitors.

“Mr. Bingley, I suppose, is still abed?” She asked her companion as he led her to the sideboard. The Bingleys kept a wide spread of options for breakfast. There were the toasts and butter and preserves that Elizabeth had been looking forward to, of course, but therewere also eggs three ways, liver, sausages, kedgeree, and cakes of all sorts. Other than the usual black breakfast tea, there was also a kettle for coffee (something Elizabeth abhorred for it was a dreadful beverage, and she could not believe any person in their right mind could actually enjoy it) and a pot of chocolate (which, she immediately gravitated towards, forgetting all about the tea she had been craving when she first awoke.)

It was not until she had filled her plate and taken her seat at the tablethatsherealisedshe had taken a bit of everythingthat wassweet from the sideboard.She’d forgone the toast for brioche,hadspread a layer of warmed butter and blackberry jam on top and taken a piece of each type of cake togo along withher chocolate.Mr. Darcy was trying very hard not to stare rudely at her plate, and she could see why.For his mealonlyseemed to consist of scrambled eggs, sausages, toast and…

And coffee.

“How does a person drink something so absolutely…” She wanted to say vile, but that would be impolite. She sufficed herself with, “ unpleasant ?”

Elizabeth was finding that, despite having deemed him to be a proud and arrogant sort of a man when she had first met him, it was very difficult to truly offend Mr. Darcy. Her impertinence only seemed to amuse him,

“I beg your pardon?” He asked her, but there was no affront in his tone,

“The coffee. You cannot truly tell me that you enjoy the taste of it.”

His mouth twitched.Shecould tell he wanted to smile. She wished that he would. He lookedwonderfulwhen he smiled, “Perhaps not. But it does its office well in keeping me from falling asleep during the day after a night of disturbed sleep.”

“Oh?” Elizabeth raised a brow, “Did you not sleep well, sir?”

“I often donot,when I am in a home I am unfamiliar with.” What Darcy did not say, and could notsayto a lady, was that often his insomnolence had less to do with the house he was staying in and more to do with the unattached ladies that resided in them with him. So many times, in fact, had Darcy almost become a victim of compromise, hehad started switching places with his valet whenever he attended a house party. The chaise or pallet in the dressing rooms were, of course, never nearly as comfortable as the beds in guest chambers, but theywerecertainlybetter than unceremoniously waking up to scantily clad women that he would thenbe forcedto marry.

Bingley was a very good friend, and Darcy held him in high regard, but he did not put it past the man’s sister to attempt something while he was under her roof.

Miss Braxton, he could only suppose, would be more than a little shocked if he related any of this to her. She was innocent to the ways of the ton . Not only had she not yet had her first season in London, she was also not nearly old enough to act in such desperation even if she were aware of the schemes that gentlewomen, often in fear of being considered ‘on the shelf’, usually concocted. Instead, he sought to tease herback,and raised a brow at her own choice of breakfast,

“I have to say, I am rather astonished that you still have all your teeth if this is how you usually eat.”

Elizabeth smiled, “My grandpapa’s doctor in Wrexham has instructed me to brush them twice a day if I insist on eating as many cakes as I do.” She said pertly, “Grandpapa thinks it a bit excessive, but I say Dr. Paterson must be onto somethingconsideringIam always told thatI havevery prettyteeth.”

She did. Darcy did not think he had ever noticed a lady’s teeth before, unless they wereparticularly unfortunate, but MissBraxton really did havevery lovelyteeth. She hada very lovelyeverything.

It was a very novelexperience,to betalking with a young lady on suchmundane,and yet eccentric subjects.No one had ever criticised his choice of morning beverage before, neither had he ever commented on a lady’s breakfast. Strangely enough, he felt he was learning more about Miss Braxton while listening to her denounce the taste of coffee than he had ever learned about a woman during a dance, or dinner, or soiree.

“You must be very close with your grandfather.” He said, picking up on the affection in her voice when she mentioned her grandpapa, “I am afraid I do not much remember mine. He passed when I was but a babe.”

“I am very sorry for your loss. If you will recall, my father passed when I was of a similar age. My mother then relocated to her maiden home instead of taking up residence in the dower house at Longbourn. There, my grandfather raised me like his own daughter. I never needed for paternal love because of him.”

They were both orphans, Darcy realised belatedly for the first time. They had both experienced too much death too early in life, but whilehis experiences had made him staid, severe, and solemn towards anyone he was not closely acquainted with, nobody who encountered Miss Braxton and her quick smiles would be able to tell that she was a young woman touched with such tragedy. Her good humour and her amiability were such that even as she teased the people around her with her sweet wit and an arched brow, she managed to put them at ease simultaneously.Darcy could remember how nervous he had felt at the idea of approaching her only a few days ago at Lucas Lodge, and yet here he sat now, alone with her except for the servants around them, and he did not think he had ever felt such tranquillity in anyone else’s company.

He could not help but think thatwhilein both their disposition,andtheircharacter, they were not quite the same, they did balance each other very well in aspects thattrulymattered andwereratherevenly matched.

Soon after, they were interrupted in their tête-à-tête by the arrival of Mr. Bingley and Miss Bennet. Both were surprised to see Miss Braxton, and to see her looking so well. Darcy was glad that if they felt any, neither of them showed their disappointment at her appearance, for Elizabeth’s good health could only be, for them, a signal of Miss Bennet’s impending departure. Darcy himself was trying his best to ignore the sense of dismay that was threatening to intrude upon him at the thought of Miss Braxton returning to Longbourn. They would, of course, see each other again. And yet, any conversations they might have from this point on would either be in dining rooms or morning parlours, surrounded by either her relations, his acquaintances or their neighbours. Never again would he be allowed to spend an uninterrupted hour in her company with only her maid as chaperone. Never again would they tease each other over a dining table in voices low and soft enoughto notbe overheard even by the servants that stood against the walls in the room.

It was a disheartening prospect.

“Miss Bennet and I were talking about it only last evening, Miss Braxton.” Bingley was saying, and Darcy endeavoured to pay attention to the conversation around him instead of moping for an event that had yet to come to pass, “How do you feel about me throwing a ball?”

Miss Braxton smiled cheerfully, “I do not believe there is any young woman you could ask that question to who would object to such a prospect.”

Clearly, Miss Braxton had not spent enough time in the company of Miss Bingley. Last night, when Bingley had first brought up the idea of organising a ball at Netherfield for his friends and neighbours, Caroline Bingley had very well looked like she had swallowed a lemon along with her glass of sherry. Darcy would, in any other circumstance, be of the same mind, for there was nought he liked less than dancing with people he did not know very well.If not for MissBraxton,andhisdesire to dance withherat least once before they would inevitably have to part ways, Darcy would have already fabricated business in Town and returned to London before the event.

“It is settled then!” Bingley grinned amiably, “I shall host a ball as soon as it canbe arranged, and when I do set a date, I hope you shall save me a set.”

Elizabeth grinned, “Any you ask for except the first or the supper. Those, I am afraidIam not at liberty to give out to any gentleman until I come out in London.”

“Well then, you must save your second for me.”

Darcy scowled, for if he would not be able to dance either the first, or the supper with her, he would have liked to dance the second.

“It is yours, Mr. Bingley.”

“And my dear Miss Bennet,” Bingley turned to Jane, his voice a littledeeperand more grave, “I hope you will do me the honour of dancing the first with me.”

Jane blushed prettily, but she replied with a subdued smile, “I will, sir.”