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The train gently jostled Elizabeth awake. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was, then her father gently dozing, head resting on the windowpane, came into focus. Jane sat quietly next to her, reading a book.

She could not remember at once what day it was, but she did remember she was going home in disgrace; her grand experiment in pieces around her feet.

When she’d finally awakened after the attack on Oxford Street, Jane told her how the suffragettes had brought her home.

A doctor had been called. She remembered none of it.

Her sister warriors were all set free from the police van once Elizabeth had lost consciousness and couldn’t be awakened.

No doubt, the police wanted to be as far away from all of them as possible if Elizabeth decided to be rude enough to die from the blow.

She hadn’t died, but she and Jane did lose their positions at Selfridges…

Jane for the minor infraction of coming in late on Tuesday after the attack, and she, for not showing up at all.

Lydia, however, hung on, and they left her in London in the care of family friends, the Forresters, who promised to look after her.

Lizzy was in no condition to object or even remark on these arrangements, because for several days, she was dizzy and nauseous and had to keep to her bed.

They concocted a story among them to tell their mother.

Lydia was also sworn to secrecy and seemed to enjoy it immensely.

She liked nothing better than intrigue. As for Mr Bingley, Lizzy knew that he wouldn’t deliberately betray their confidence, but he was so open and guileless a person that he might let something slip that his sister would pounce upon with hyenalike viciousness.

No, better to keep the news to themselves and say that Elizabeth fell down the stairs in the Underground and hit her head.

“Oh, Lizzy, come in. Come in. Your room is all ready for you. You know, I never thought of you as a clumsy child, but here you are. First, a spill in the Thames during the regatta and now this. I don’t know what we’ll do with you.

” Her mother prattled on in this vein all the way up the stairs and into Lizzy’s and Jane’s room as she instructed the servants on where to deposit the bags.

Finally, Lizzy spoke up. “Mama, I am a little tired. I would like to lie down for a while.” Her mother smiled weakly and scolded the servants to leave the room at once. After pulling the curtains to darken a brilliant March day, she left Lizzy to her thoughts.

And they were gloomy thoughts indeed.

***

“Darcy… Darcy… I say, what's so fascinating?”

Darcy started at the sound of Bingley’s voice. “Oh, do pardon me. I was just reading…” The paper crumpled in his hands.

Bingley took a seat opposite Darcy, set down a small whiskey and relaxed into the leather chair. “…of the latest exploits of the women warriors.” Bingley finished his sentence for him.

“Not that I am particularly interested…”

“Oh, no. Of course not.” Bingley crinkled his gaze in amusement, and then seriousness set in. “The police are meeting these suffragette actions with increasing violence.”

Darcy laid the paper on his lap and met his eye. “Yes, I know. It’s worrying.”

“If you are concerned for Miss Elizabeth Bennet—”

“I didn’t say I was.”

“But if you were, you’d have reason to be.”

Darcy glared at him. “If that’s a joke, it’s in very poor taste.”

“It is no joke.” Bingley broke his gaze and took a deep breath.

“For God’s sake, speak up, man. What do you know?”

Bingley leaned into the back of the chair and met his eye. “She’s been injured. The police…”

Now Darcy was on his feet. “Injured? The police what?”

“Calm yourself and let me tell you. It appears they hit her in the back of the head with a truncheon. She is recovering but has left London with Jane. They have returned to Longbourn.”

Darcy sat back down heavily in his chair. “Are you sure she is all right?”

“I have seen her. She is not fully herself yet, but the doctors believe she will make a full recovery.”

Darcy nodded absently and spoke so softly to himself. “Good. Good. Perhaps I should…”

A butler arrived with a silver tray and interrupted the conversation. “This just arrived for you, sir.” The butler bent forward and presented the envelope. Darcy picked it up.

“Telegram?”

“My steamer ticket. I’m travelling soon.” Darcy was grateful for the change of subject.

“Oh, really? Where?”

“America.”

“You will be back for the wedding I hope.”

“Of course, Charles. Of course. I’ll leave in early April and should be home in plenty of time. You know these new ships. They can make the crossing in less than a week. This one is brand new… White Star Line… reported to be the swiftest of them all.”

Bingley took a sip of his whiskey. “And what ship is that?”

“The RMS Titanic .”

“Ah. Jolly good.”

Although they spoke of other things, Elizabeth and her injury preoccupied Darcy. He resolved then and there to see for himself how she fared. Perhaps it was not too late to repair the breach between them.

***

The date for Jane and Charles’s wedding was set for early May.

Jane fairly hummed joy and excitement. She moved almost suspended off the ground, hovering here, hovering there, and then suddenly flitting to her next task.

Many hours were spent at Netherfield as tradesmen arrived with samples of fabric and upholstery and even paint.

She tried in vain to induce Lizzy to take an interest.

“Isn’t this fabric lovely? I think it will do nicely on the drawing room furniture. Charles dislikes anything too dark. What do you think? Lizzy?”

“Yes. It’s very nice. You have wonderful taste.” Even to herself, Lizzy’s voice sounded half-hearted at best.

Jane put the fabric down on the chair in the drawing room at Longbourn and sat down next to Lizzy on the sofa. She took Lizzy’s hands in hers. “Are you in pain? Are the headaches back?”

Elizabeth looked at Jane. Concern etched through her eyes. “No, I’m fine. I think I’m spoiling your happiness by being so gloomy. I’m sorry.”

“You want to be back in London, don’t you? With the suffragettes.”

Lizzy sighed. Jane knew her so well. “I don’t want that part of my life to be over. There is so much to do. The fight has just begun.”

Jane patted her hand. “If I know you, you will find a way, Elizabeth Bennet. You will. But for now, help me make some decisions.” She rose and returned to the samples of fabric lying on chairs about the room.

“Lizzy, telegram.” Their mother interrupted them from the door of the drawing room. Lizzy sprang up and took it gingerly from her hand. Charlotte’s name scrawled across it, so she tore it open.

Huntsford Westerham

Lizzy come for a visit will meet your train don’t say no

Charlotte Collins

“Something from those Collinses, I suppose,” her mother muttered as she tried to peer over Lizzy’s shoulder.

“Charlotte wants me to come for a visit.”

“You should go. There’s no reason for you to mope about here.” A clatter of a cup from the kitchen distracted her mother, and she was left with Jane, who looked at her sympathetically.

“You should go, Lizzy. The change will do you good.”

Lizzy nodded lamely. “Why not? Perhaps I will recruit Charlotte to the cause.”

That remark caused Jane to grin and shake her head. Lizzy smiled for the first time in a long while. A change of scene might be just the thing.

***

The distance from London to Hertfordshire wasn’t a long one, and Darcy decided to drive himself.

It gave him an opportunity not only to view the countryside, but to compose a myriad of conversations he might have with Elizabeth.

The pretext of his visit, of course, was to see Bingley and marvel at the many improvements his friend had made in Netherfield since his last visit at Christmas.

Jane would be there. Darcy would be invited to Longbourn.

There he would suggest a walk in the garden with Elizabeth and ascertain the state of her health and, hopefully, the state of her heart.

If she gave him the slightest encouragement, he would dare to ask her again.

“ Darcy, how marvellous to see you. You are just in time for luncheon.” Bingley answered his own door as arrangements for servants had not been made, and from what Darcy could see, the house was still in a state.

“ Work moves on apace, I see.” He handed his hat to Bingley and looked around. Scaffolding lay everywhere, a thin film of dust peppered the floor, and most of the furniture was covered in sheets.

Bingley laughed. “Yes, you see, when we began to install the electrics, it seemed the plumbing was amiss, and one thing led to another. Once they began tearing into the walls, Jane and I decided to redecorate the entire place. Clear out the Victorian gloom and all that, eh?”

Darcy nodded. One style seemed as good as the next to him, but his friend seemed happier than he had ever seen him.

Jane arrived in the hall, her dress powdered with plaster, her hair covered in a white cap, a few strands escaping to frame her lovely face.

Even in disarray, she looked beautiful. Darcy suddenly felt his stomach clench.

What if Elizabeth told her of his role in keeping Bingley away for all those weeks?

She smiled sweetly at him and extended her hand.

“ Oh, Mr Darcy. How nice of you to visit.” She absently brushed a stray strand of hair away from her cheek. “I’m afraid we are in the midst of absolute chaos. The only place we have to receive you is the kitchen, which is hardly the place to receive guests.”

Bingley absolutely beamed. He couldn’t take his eyes off his bride-to-be. “It’s all right, my love. Darcy here is more family than friend, aren’t you, old man?”

Darcy was touched by that remark, so much so that he nearly made a spectacle of himself.

Clearing his throat, he let Bingley take him by one arm and Jane took the other.

When they arrived in the kitchen, Jane began to retrieve some ham from the icebox and soon was engaged in preparing sandwiches for them. Now was the time.

“ Do you miss Selfridges, Miss Bennet?”

“ Oh, do call me Jane.” She sliced the bread carefully, not looking up at Darcy. “I did enjoy working, but I think Lizzy misses it more… London, I mean… and the suffragettes.”

“ I told Darcy that your sister got quite a nasty blow from the coppers.”

Jane stopped her preparations and looked up at Darcy. “We were quite afraid for her at first. She was in and out of consciousness and not herself at all.”

It was as Darcy feared. They had broken her.

“ But she’s quite all right now,” Jane added and turned to the stove as the kettle began to boil.

“ Do you think she might like a visitor?” Darcy was trying to be as subtle as possible but dared not look at Bingley.

“ Oh, she isn’t here at the moment. She’s gone to Kent to visit her friend Charlotte.” Jane set the teapot and sandwiches in the table. “There, all done.”

Darcy smiled weakly. All done indeed.