Page 9 of I Thee Wed (Pride And Prejudice Variation #2)

It was a lovely day, perfect for a picnic.

The grass was green, the ground dry, and the wildflowers were in full bloom.

Mrs. Goulding had set tables with tiny sandwiches and other delicate fare at the edge of her lawns, where the turf gave way to fields that rose into rolling hills and a wood.

Beyond the trees lay a bluebell meadow in full glory.

The company had amused themselves with croquet upon the lower lawn and a turn at the butts for archery, when Mr. Goulding called out, in excellent spirits, that the ladies must pair for a race.

Mrs. Goulding and her two daughters came forward with baskets filled with bright ribbons and, laughing, bound each pair by the ankle.

In a few moments, a cheerful line was formed upon the grass: Elizabeth with Jane; Lydia with Georgiana; Charlotte with Maria; Mary King with Kitty; Abby and Anise, the Goulding sisters; and several other pairs besides.

The gentlemen stood off to one side, prepared to cheer or to advise, as their temper inclined.

Miss Bingley refused to participate in the sport. She puckered up her sour face and pronounced, “It is a demeaning pastime.” When Mr. Goulding blew the whistle, she moved to the edge of the field and delivered an insult, her voice smooth as silk.

“Miss Eliza, I shall wager you will win. Your figure is more like that of a boy than of a woman. Wiry girls are made to toil in the fields or fisheries rather than to grace a ballroom or a box at the theatre.”

Elizabeth flushed, and her eyes stung, but Jane pressed her arm and cautioned, “Lizzy, it is nothing; she is merely jealous. We both know you are considered one of the local beauties, and you are not wiry, whatever she may say.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam was standing nearby watching the proceedings, and he leaned in and said, “Take no notice, Miss Elizabeth. She is merely jealous, for you are lovelier, more refined, and more elegant than she. And besides, you will contrive to run beautifully, even trussed like a sheep for shearing.”

Elizabeth’s eyes lit with amusement. “You are very kind, Colonel.”

“Not at all,” he returned easily. “Take it from a man who has marched half of Europe, keep the same step, mind your footing, and you will leave them all behind.”

Mr. Goulding lifted his whistle. “Ladies, ready!”

Darcy called, half laughing, “Remember, Georgiana, short steps. Keep in time with your partner.”

“Yes, brother,” Georgiana answered, smiling at Lydia. “We shall attempt to move as one.”

Lydia giggled. “Left—right—left—right—We will win for certain, Georgiana!”

Richard said in mock command, “Friendly diplomacy on the left foot; Bennet determination on the right. When in doubt, smile and hop.”

Miss Bingley folded her arms and looked on with cool disdain.

The whistle sounded. Off they went in a lively, hopping line: Jane and Elizabeth with admirable composure; Lydia and Georgiana all laughter with near-collisions; Charlotte and Maria, practical and exact; and Mary King and Kitty as earnest as if their lives depended upon it; all the other young ladies hopped with more laughter, squeals, and merriment than with forward movement.

There was a general inclination to tumble, but the turf was kind, and the ribbons didn’t bite.

“Capital!” cried Mr. Bingley, clapping until his curls shook. “Miss Bennet, Miss Eliza, bravo!”

“Beautiful timing,” said Richard, cupping his hands. “Do not let Lydia lead you into the shrubbery, Georgiana!” He was too late. The two young girls landed in a heap in the bushes.

Elizabeth and Jane drew a little ahead with an easy, even rhythm.

Mary King and Kitty rallied and began to gain on the two Bennet sisters; Charlotte and Maria at last worked out a rhythm and ran to catch the rest. Seeing that they were only a few yards from the finish, Elizabeth murmured to Jane, “Left, right, left, right,” and together they hopped over the line, just ahead of the Lucas sisters, who tripped up moments before reaching it.

The bystanders cheered, and many laughed heartily at the antics of the young women. Mrs. Goulding was satisfied with the success of her entertainment, and she ensured that all the matrons offered her their congratulations upon the scheme.

Elizabeth, breathless and laughing, looked up in time to see Colonel Fitzwilliam bowing to her with exaggerated ceremony.

“As foretold,” he said. “Elegance and strategy prevailed. I shall draft a report to Horse Guards at once.”

“Pray do not,” Elizabeth returned, laughing. “I would not have my name stand in the Gazette for hopping across a lawn.”

“On the contrary,” he replied, eyes dancing. “It would be the first time the Gazette published unalloyed good news.”

Miss Bingley, having found no improvement in the sport by witnessing it, turned away with a sniff. “A child’s game,” she declared to Mrs. Hurst.

Darcy said, in his quiet way, “Well run, Miss Bennet.” And Jane, who had heard Miss Bingley’s insults, squeezed her sister’s hand and whispered, “You bore it beautifully.”

Mr. Bingley produced a thick blanket and begged Jane and Elizabeth to share it. Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy joined them; Colonel Fitzwilliam flung himself down with cheerful disregard for ceremony. Miss Bingley elected a chair at the edge with Mr. and Mrs. Hurst and held herself a little aloof.

Georgiana sat beside Elizabeth, offering a plate. “Crab cakes.”

“For the Colonel,” Elizabeth said, laughing, as Richard reached for two at once.

“They are the size of a thumbnail,” he protested, good humored. “They barely fill a tooth. You must forgive me.”

“Your appetite needs no forgiveness,” Darcy observed dryly.

“Only reinforcement,” Elizabeth added, and Georgiana’s soft laugh joined hers.

Jane and Mr. Bingley, at the far corner of the blanket, had fallen into that low-voiced conversation which perfect contentment alone can inspire.

Miss Bingley’s mouth grew a shade more sour.

Elizabeth, glancing up, observed Alexander standing beside Miss King as he served her plate.

And what of it? she told herself firmly.

There is no understanding between us. She turned away, took up a delicate crab cake, and resolved to relish its flavor and the company that surrounded her.

At that moment, Mrs. Bennet walked past the small group speaking with Mrs. Goulding in tones that carried only too well.

“It is a fine thing for Jane that Mr. Bingley has eyes only for her. He has five thousand a year, only think, Agnes, five thousand! My Jane will never go without. Mr. Bingley cannot take his eyes off my dear girl. We shall have wedding clothes to consider very soon. And the crab! Dear me, you must have paid a smart price for it in the market. So good of you. I always tell Mr. Bennet we must economize.”

The two ladies moved on, but the whole of the Netherfield party had heard. Jane and Elizabeth flushed, with heads bowed and eyes cast down, and an awkward pause followed.

Georgiana rose at once. “Miss Bennet, and Miss Elizabeth, if you are finished, will you walk to the bluebells with me?”

“I should like that,” Elizabeth said gratefully.

“I, too,” cried Miss King, approaching with a smile. “I have never seen them so thick.”

Alexander Lucas, who had been watching from a short distance, made a bow. “If I may attend you, ladies, I mean to ensure your safety.”

Mary King preened as he joined them, taking his marked attentions to have been meant for her.

The dirt path led through the woods, and within minutes, they stepped into a purple-tinted dream.

The bluebells stood almost to the knee and stretched in a drift of color as far as the eye could see.

Elizabeth and Georgiana followed the narrow footpath as it curved through the fields, and they began to skip.

At last, Georgiana ran ahead laughing, and Elizabeth followed, singing, “Oh, where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone?”

Georgiana caught the tune, and the two young women sang The Bluebells of Scotland as they danced along the track. Miss King declared she did not like to run and hung back to stroll with Alexander; he glanced toward Elizabeth, then resigned himself with a rueful smile to Miss King’s pace.

A fine rain began. Elizabeth and Georgiana clasped hands and danced along the path, laughing. Miss King shrieked and fled back toward the carriages.

“Come, Elizabeth, let’s get out of the rain!” Alexander called, laughing.

However, the two young women did not hear and continued to sing and hold hands. They danced together like nymphs under the leaves. “I’m going with Miss King to the carriage,” Alexander called at last, and strode off.

A baritone voice called to them a few minutes later through the patter of rain. “Miss Bennet, Georgiana!” Mr. Darcy emerged upon the path, laughing despite himself. “Come, look at the clouds. It will pour down in sheets in a few minutes.”

They ran to him at once. When they reached the lawn, they saw the guests gathering blankets and shawls. People were scrambling into their carriages as the first heavy raindrops began to fall.

Darcy held out a hand for Elizabeth and said, “You are coming with us.” He helped his sister into the carriage next. “I told your family they were free to leave, and I would deliver you to Longbourn.”

The two young women tumbled into the Darcy carriage. They were wet through, their damp curls plastered to their skin. Miss Bingley was already seated within, an angry frown of disapproval fixed upon her face.

Darcy started with surprise when he saw her. “Mr. Darcy,” she said, “I wished to ride back with you. I had no idea Miss Eliza would be among the party as well. Pray do not sit near me if you are wet; my pelisse must not be spoiled.”

Caroline’s gaze travelled over Elizabeth from bonnet to slippers. “Miss Bennet, I fancy this must be the last hurrah for that gown. It is sadly stained with mud and crushed leaves.” She pursed her lips. “Still, as it is at least three seasons old, it can hardly signify.”

She paused, looked more closely, and allowed herself a little laugh. “My, my, Miss Eliza, one might almost see straight through your muslin.”

Elizabeth glanced down and, with a shock of mortification, perceived that the rain had rendered the white muslin nearly transparent. She crossed her arms across her breast.

Mr. Darcy, without a word, shrugged out of his coat and offered it to her.

“Miss Bennet, pray take my jacket. It will serve until we reach Longbourn.” He fumbled beneath the seat, then drew out a travelling rug and wrapped it around Georgiana.

“There, you are quite decent, my dear.” He dug up another, smaller rug, and handed it to Elizabeth.

“For your knees, Miss Bennet. Keep them both for now and return them when it is convenient.”

“I would not ruin your coat, sir,” Elizabeth protested, but she drew it about her shoulders out of necessity.

“It is damp already,” he said quietly. “My man will see to it.”

Miss Bingley’s smile sharpened. “If I did not know better, Miss Eliza, I should think you contrived this little adventure on purpose, to parade your boyish figure before the gentlemen.”

Georgiana caught her breath. Color swept Elizabeth’s face from throat to brow.

“Miss Bingley,” said Darcy, his tone even, his eyes narrowed, “were I unacquainted with you, I might suspect you of jealousy. Surely that cannot be the case?”

Caroline flushed to the very shade of her hair and turned to the window, where she remained in resolute silence for the rest of the drive.

By the time they reached Longbourn, the rain had ceased. “Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said in the carriage, “if you come into the house with me, I shall put on my pelisse and send your coat back with you at once.”

“Very well, Miss Bennet.”

They entered the foyer, and Elizabeth slipped out of his coat. Darcy, meaning to look anywhere but at her, found his gaze caught nonetheless by the lovely form the rain had traced. He colored, recovered himself, bowed, and withdrew as soon as the jacket was in his hands.