Page 24

Netherfield Park, Morning Room - Elizabeth

E lizabeth found herself facing the prospect of leaving these rooms with decidedly mixed emotions - relief at escaping the awkwardness of occupying Mr Darcy’s private space, yet reluctance to leave the peaceful sanctuary it had become.

But first, there was the far more immediate challenge of facing a carriage again…

The morning room blazed with daylight, a shocking contrast to the dim sick‐chamber of the past week. Elizabeth planted her feet one at a time-walking stick in one hand, Jane’s steady arm in the other-while they exchanged hurried farewells.

Mr Bingley’s evident distress at their departure manifested in repeated concerns about the weather and their health.

Jane laid a hand on Mr Bingley’s arm. “Promise you will visit us at Longbourn when you’re next in the neighbourhood. ”

Miss Bingley, drawing them each into a quick embrace, added, “And do write the moment you’re fully recovered, Eliza -oh, how I have missed your company! And please be gentle with that ankle.”

Mr Darcy stood slightly apart, and Elizabeth found herself acutely conscious that this was the first time she’d seen him in daylight since that terrifying ride through the rain, when she had been perched precariously on his horse.

She managed to meet his eye just long enough to thank him, though the words seemed inadequate for all he had done.

His bow in response was particularly grave, his expression unreadable.

A soft crunch of gravel drew every eye to the window.

“Allow me,” he murmured, stepping forward.

Elizabeth’s breath caught as he closed the small distance between them, arm outstretched.

Together they crossed the bright morning room. Behind them, Miss Bingley sniffed. “Really, Morris, I specifically ordered the landau why has the barouche been brought around instead.”

“Mr Darcy was most particular about the arrangements, Miss Bingley,” Morris replied with perfect composure. “Open air and extra blankets, to ease the journey.”

Elizabeth’s steps were small, each one placed with care, until at last they reached the carriage door. Mr Darcy paused, waiting, then his arm tightened almost imperceptibly beneath her hand. “You are quite safe.” he said quietly.

She let the tremor in her fingers fade. “Miss Elizabeth,” he said quietly, after watching her third unsuccessful effort, “if you will permit me?”

Her cheeks burning with the combined heat of exertion and embarrassment, she had little choice but to nod her assent.

She found herself lifted with the same gentle efficiency he had shown that night in the rain.

His hands lingered at her waist a moment longer than strictly necessary as he settled her beside Jane, the warmth of them seeping through her pelisse.

She steadied herself as he stepped back, willing her breath to remain even.

Miss Bingley’s continued complaints about the change in carriages provided a welcome distraction from this new awareness.

Inside, Jane tucked a blanket around her knees, while Mr Bingley-no words necessary-tucked one end gently over her shoulders.

Mr Darcy straightened, offering one final, solemn bow.

His gaze met Elizabeth’s with a quiet intensity that spoke volumes in its silence.

“Drive on, Roster,” Mr Bingley called.

Mr Darcy’s eyes lifted with the carriage’s motion-and held Elizabeth’s in a single, wordless pledge.

Then the wheels turned, and he was gone from sight.

As the carriage rattled toward Longbourn, Elizabeth thought she still felt Mr Darcy’s gaze on her back-an unspoken promise carried in the chill November air.

* * *

Netherfield Park – Darcy’s Rooms - Darcy

Later that morning the door closed with a muted click behind him.

Darcy stood in the centre of the room for a moment, still gloved, hat in hand. The fire had been refreshed, the windows cracked just slightly to air the space. All was in order-precisely as it had been before. And yet…

It was not the same.

The bed had been remade with precision, the desk tidied, the books re-stacked.

But the faint trace of lavender lingered in the air, and on the writing desk, someone-probably Martha-had left a small silver bell just slightly out of alignment.

A touch too near the inkwell, as if nudged by unfamiliar hands.

Darcy crossed the room and removed his gloves slowly, placing them on the blotter. The chair beside the hearth bore the faintest indent of recent use. He did not sit there.

Instead, he moved to the window, pushing it open a little further. Outside, the gravel drive was quiet again. No carriage, no parting glances. Just the brittle clarity of a November morning, cold and precise.

He had not lingered after their departure. He had seen her safely into the carriage, had spoken only what was necessary. And yet he could still feel the imprint of her fingers on his arm, the quiet weight of her trust in that moment.

She had been afraid.

And he had known it-without explanation, without words. He had known, and had acted, and now she was gone.

Darcy looked down at the hearth where the flames cracked steadily, and the edges of the room seemed a little too quiet. Not cold, precisely. But unfamiliar once more.

With a quiet sigh, he turned back to the desk. The gloves, the bell, the books. Everything waiting to resume its usual place.

But he did not sit.

Not yet.

* * *

Road to Longbourn - In the barouche - Elizabeth

The journey home passed quietly. The open air and Jane’s steady presence helped Elizabeth master her nerves, while the warmed bricks at their feet and thick blankets around them spoke of a careful thoughtfulness she tried not to dwell on.

Instead, she focused on the familiar landmarks passing by, each one bringing them closer to Longbourn and further from…

other thoughts she was not yet ready to examine.

As the carriage turned into the drive, Elizabeth caught sight of the front steps-and, sitting smugly on the topmost one, the Bennets’ elderly cat, Pudding.

She did not stir as the carriage drew close, merely blinked once and resumed her nap, as though nothing of importance had changed in the household.

Mrs Bennet was already at the door, flanked by Kitty and Lydia, who rushed forward with eager chatter as soon as the barouche came to a halt. Kitty and Lydia’s demands for news of Netherfield.

The footman approached to assist, but Elizabeth’s injured ankle made the descent far more challenging than she had anticipated.

Hill came bustling out to direct operations, and between the walking stick, the footman’s support, and Hill’s anxious supervision, Elizabeth eventually managed to reach solid ground, though with considerably less grace than she would have wished.

“But why would you insist on returning today?” Mrs Bennet lamented, following them into the house. “Mr Bingley must think you very unappreciative of his hospitality! And to come home in the barouche instead of waiting for our carriage tomorrow - though I must say it was very elegant.”

Their father emerged from his library to welcome them home, his dry “Well, well” speaking volumes about his relief at having his two most sensible daughters returned to him .

“Though really, girls,” Mrs Bennet continued, following them into the drawing room, “you might have waited another day. Our cousin is to arrive at four, and I shall have to manage everything myself. I would have liked to be able to counted on Jane at least to help arrange things properly.”

Jane and Elizabeth exchanged puzzled glances. “Cousin?” Elizabeth asked, lowering herself carefully onto the nearest settee.

“Oh! Did I not mention? Your father has had a letter from his cousin Mr Collins, who is to inherit - oh, how it pains me to think of it! - and he is coming to stay. Today of all days! Though,” Mrs Bennet’s expression brightened suddenly, “perhaps it is just as well you are returned. For he must marry one of you girls, you know…”

Elizabeth caught Jane’s eye again and gave a resigned smile. They were well and truly home.

By the time the hallway commotion had subsided, Elizabeth had been ushered into the morning room. A footman arranged the cushions on the settee beneath the window, and Hill shooed Kitty and Lydia away with a practised glance that brooked no argument.

“Rest your leg, Miss Lizzy,” she said firmly, settling her with the same ease she had used since Elizabeth was a girl. “You will take a little broth and bread-Cook has it nearly ready.”

“Thank you, Hill,” Elizabeth murmured, letting herself sink into the pillows with a mixture of resignation and relief.

Jane, after ensuring the ankle was properly supported, drew the curtains to soften the morning glare. “There. Not quite Netherfield’s fireside, but it will do.”

“It does more than do,” Elizabeth said, glancing around the room with tired affection. “It even smells like home.”

“That would be the lavender polish and damp dog,” Jane replied with a smile. “Cook says Dash got into the pantry again.”

Before Elizabeth could answer, the door opened and Mary entered, book in hand, expression appropriately sombre.

“I am very glad you are safely returned,” Mary said without preamble. “Your mishap is a sobering illustration of the dangers inherent in modern transport. Chaise travel, particularly, is best undertaken only when absolutely essential.”

Elizabeth blinked. “Thank you, Mary. I shall be sure to bear that in mind when next I plan an accident.”

Jane turned slightly, hiding her smile as Mary continued: “The Stoics remind us that pain is not evil in itself, but our perception of it may be. Epictetus would suggest-”

“We are very fond of the Stoics in this house,” Elizabeth murmured, closing her eyes for a moment. “Especially when they arrive uninvited before breakfast.”

Mary inclined her head with grave approval and withdrew, book still open in her hands.