Page 44 of The Briar Bargain (The Rom Com Collection #3)
I t was just after breakfast the next morning when the news arrived, though Elizabeth would later reflect that "arrived" was far too sedate a word for the commotion that erupted in the courtyard below.
A burst of uncharacteristic energy from the drive sent everyone in the morning room to the windows in a flutter of curiosity.
A familiar rider, his trousers splashed with drying mud from boot to thigh, galloped to the front of the house and dismounted.
The butler emerged onto the gravel drive before the man had even secured his reins, a testament to how eagerly the household had awaited word from the outside world.
Elizabeth pressed closer to the glass. Her heart lifted with a peculiar mixture of relief and anticipation. "It is John, from Longbourn," she announced to the room at large.
"John Davis?" Jane asked. "Oh, indeed it is! How good of Papa to send him."
Mr. Bingley left to greet the rider, his footsteps echoing through the corridor with uncommon haste.
Elizabeth found herself holding her breath, though she could not have said precisely why.
Perhaps it was merely the prospect of news from home after so many days of isolation, or perhaps it was the sense that this moment might mark the beginning of the end of their peculiar interlude at Netherfield.
Through the window, she could see Mr. Bingley clap John on the shoulder by way of greeting, and the two men engaged in an animated conversation.
John turned to point behind him as he no doubt described the state of the roads and how he had arrived here.
Even from her vantage point, Elizabeth could see the relief in Mr. Bingley's posture.
"He looks well," Jane whispered. "And not overly concerned, which must be a good sign."
Miss Bingley set down her teacup with a delicate clink. "I do hope the news is not too encouraging," she said with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "We have grown so accustomed to your delightful company."
Elizabeth felt rather than saw Mr. Darcy's sharp glance in Miss Bingley's direction, though when she looked at him, his expression revealed nothing of his thoughts.
A few minutes later, a footman appeared in the doorway bearing a travel-worn bundle wrapped in canvas and tied with string, as well as two sealed letters. One was addressed to Elizabeth in her father's familiar sprawling hand, the other was from Mamma to Jane.
"Letters from home," Elizabeth said unnecessarily, her voice brightening with anticipation. The sight of her father's handwriting sent a wave of homesickness through her that was both unexpected and intense. “At last.”
She glanced at Jane, who had already broken the seal on her letter and was reading with the serene expression that suggested good news. A gentle smile played about her sister's lips as her eyes moved across the page.
"Mamma is in good spirits," Jane said, looking up with evident relief. "She writes that they are all well. The flooding has receded considerably, and she has been kept busy organising baskets for those most affected. "
By which Mamma meant that Mary had been kept very busy, Elizabeth thought with affection.
Her younger sister was always wishing for opportunities to distinguish herself, and this had been a good one.
Her middle sister's talent for managing domestic crises had never been tested, but she suspected that Mary had done well.
She had tried not to dwell on the separation, but it was such a relief to hear that everyone was safe and that their home had not suffered any damage.
She unfolded her own letter with careful fingers, noting how her father had managed to keep his characteristic economy even in circumstances that might have prompted a slightly longer missive.
He had written in his usual style, that blend of dry observation and paternal affection that never failed to make her smile.
My dear Lizzy,
You are, I trust, still reasonably dry and undamaged by the recent catastrophes of Nature, which have proven themselves remarkably indifferent to our convenience.
The northern footbridge may now be safely crossed by man and horse, though I would not recommend attempting it with any wheeled conveyance unless you wish to provide the neighbourhood with an amusing spectacle.
I have sent John Davis with a few useful items selected by your mother, as it has come to my attention that one cannot subsist indefinitely on borrowed clothing, however prettily they may be offered .
I hope you will return promptly once the carriage bridge is restored, or sooner if you are inclined to walk ten miles and, as your dear mamma says, ruin your constitution for the sake of your old father's peace of mind.
I should not tempt you. Wait for the carriage bridge to be repaired, if you please.
Your mother wishes me to convey her love and her fervent hope that Jane has taken advantage of her time at Netherfield. She will be quite put out with you, Lizzy, if Jane has not. No, I do not comprehend the logic in such a statement either.
Your affectionate Papa
Elizabeth bit her lip to suppress a laugh.
Even in a letter, Papa could not resist poking gentle fun at Mamma's matrimonial machinations.
She could picture him in his study, quill in hand, composing this missive with the same care he might give to correspondence with his solicitor, yet infusing it with just enough sentiment to reassure her of his affection.
Miss Bingley, who had been seated at the writing desk with her back held in its customary rigid posture, turned with the expression of polite inquiry that Elizabeth had learned to recognise as barely concealed irritation. "Is something amusing, Miss Eliza? "
"Oh, merely my father's humour," Elizabeth replied, folding the letter with care. "And he has been so thoughtful as to send us some of our things."
"How providential," Miss Bingley said.
Mrs. Hurst glanced up and cleared her throat delicately. "Shall I call the maid to carry your things to your chambers, Miss Elizabeth?" she inquired mildly when it was clear Miss Bingley would not offer.
"I thank you, yes." Elizabeth turned to her sister. "I shall see that your things are put away if you like, Jane."
Jane nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Lizzy. I confess I shall be glad to have another change of clothes."
As Elizabeth prepared to follow the maid upstairs, Mr. Bingley entered, his cheeks flushed from the cold air, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Excellent news!" he announced to the room at large. "Mr. Linton rode the northern bridge with Davis to test its soundness, and he has also informed me that the main bridge should be passable by carriage the day after next.”
Elizabeth felt a curious mixture of relief and something that might have been disappointment. Two days. She would not miss her hostess, but she would miss being in Mr. Darcy’s company so often.
"That is indeed good news," Jane said warmly. "Though I confess we shall be sorry to leave such generous hosts."
Mr. Bingley's face lit up at her words. "The pleasure has been entirely ours, I assure you. Has it not, Caroline?"
“Of course,” Miss Bingley replied thinly.
As she made her way upstairs, trailing behind the maid who carried their bundle of clean clothes, Elizabeth found herself oddly unsettled.
She had been genuinely eager to return home, and yet the prospect of leaving Netherfield in just two days created an unexpectedly hollow feeling in her chest. She would miss Mr. Darcy.
How strange that seemed, but it was true.
As she reached the landing, Mr. Darcy was crossing from the direction of his chamber, a leather-bound book tucked under his arm. He paused upon seeing her, his dark eyes taking in the maid hurrying up the steps with the bundle.
"Miss Elizabeth," he said, offering a slight bow that managed to be both proper and somehow less formal than his usual manner. "Good news from home, I hope?"
"Yes, thank you. My family is well."
"That is encouraging news," he replied. "I trust Longbourne weathered the storm without serious difficulty?"
"Yes, I am pleased to say. My father sends me his affection and a gentle reminder that I ought not walk the ten miles home."
A ghost of a smile passed over Mr. Darcy's features—an expression she was seeing more frequently, and that never failed to transform his entire countenance. "Sensible advice."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the memory of her earlier determination to attempt just such a walk.
She could see he was surprised at the gesture, but not offended, thank goodness.
"Yes," she said teasingly. "I believe it is the same advice given to me by another gentleman some days ago.
" Then, more seriously, she added, "Thank you for that. "
"I confess I am relieved you heeded it,” he said. “The thought of you attempting such a journey in uncertain weather with the bridge potentially unsafe and you hardly recovered was . . . concerning. I should have had to escort you, you know."
His eyes met Elizabeth's briefly as he spoke, and she felt that familiar flutter in her chest that his direct gaze always seemed to provoke.
For a moment, the landing seemed very quiet, very still .
“Thank you again.”
"You are welcome, Miss Elizabeth."
The words were simple enough, but Elizabeth felt heat creep up her neck and settle in her cheeks, and she dipped a curtsy more hastily than was strictly elegant.
"I should . . . that is, I ought to follow the maid. I will have to see how badly everything has been wrinkled."
"Of course."
She moved past him, acutely conscious of his presence behind her until she heard his footsteps receding down the stairs. Only when she reached the safety of her chamber did she allow herself to release the breath she had been holding.