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Elizabeth went to her room and changed into something lighter so the warmth in Jane’s room would be bearable. From her conversation with Mr Bingley, she believed he does hold some affection for Jane. He had asked about her condition and whether all her needs were being addressed. Jane’s health had been his sole concern when talking with her, which pleased her. Elizabeth spun about as happy as she had been for some time. Her sister was well on her way to being married as far as she was concerned. She went to sit with Jane, relieving Sara so she could go eat. Thankfully, the room was not as warm as it had been, as the fire had died down considerably.

With much joy, Elizabeth relayed Mr Bingley’s concern for her health teasingly, making Jane blush.

“I would tell you about the meal, but I don’t want to make you hungry,” she said, looking at the near-empty bowl of broth that had been her only sustenance all day on orders of Mr Jones.

“I do not mind, Lizzy.”

“There is really nothing much to tell. Although Mr Hurst, for some reason, took personal offence that I’m not particularly fond of ragout.”

“He did not, Lizzy. Be serious.”

“I am, he did, I promise,” she replied, then told the story, doing her best to impersonate the portly gentleman. Making her sister laugh brought on a coughing fit, so she insisted on reading to her, which she did until Jane began to fall asleep.

Elizabeth reluctantly made her way to the parlour. It was too early to bed, and after reading to Jane, she no longer felt like reading. Sitting alone in her room did not appeal to her either, so decided to brave the lion’s den. She found them around the card table playing loo. Bingley immediately asked if she would like to join them. She was tempted to say yes until she approached the table and saw the pile of coins in the middle.

“No, thank you. I think I shall pass. My sisters and I are used to playing with bits and bobs, recently acquired ribbons or lace, and the rare ha’penny.”

“Ribbons and lace? What is the purpose of that?” Mr Hurst asked, thinking she might be jesting.

“For girls wanting to redo a bonnet, it is better than money.”

Mr Hurst shook his head, not understanding her answer. Mr Darcy looked at her curiously as she stood between Bingley and Mrs Hurst, watching them play. He could safely say that he had never met such an odd woman. She was so different from the ladies he was acquainted with in society. It took him several rounds to come to think of her as genuine. He did not know of any woman who would come dressed in such a plain frock. Although plain, he thought it highlighted her curves perfectly. Darcy shook off his distraction and focused on his cards. Thankfully, she left the group to examine the books stacked on the table in the reading area by the fire.

“I could fetch more books for you if those are not to your liking,” Mr Bingley called out to Elizabeth after she perused the titles.

“I’m fine.”

“I am embarrassed to say my collection is not close to haw many your father has in his collection.”

“He does enjoy his books,” she admitted.

From his vantage point, Darcy had the perfect view of her silhouette against the light of the fire.

“It is almost embarrassing to say what a small number of books my father left for us,” Miss Bingley said. “Mr Darcy has an extensive collection of books at Pemberley and in town.”

“It has been collected over many generations.”

“I am astounded at the number you purchase,” she added, feigning admiration for the feat. “You are always buying them.”

“If one has the means, it should be put to use. I believe a family should have a well-rounded collection.”

“I have the means, but I am an idle fellow and already have far more than I would ever read in a lifetime. Yet, Darcy continually gifts me with books, urging me to read them. I confess, I always intend to make it to the end but never find myself there.” He said with a shrug of resignation.

“Perhaps we could all refocus our attention on the game,” Mr Hurst exclaimed in frustration.

Elizabeth used this as an excuse to bid them good night and departed, to the relief of two of the players.

“Did you notice that dress? Barely better than a kitchen maid.” Caroline said in amusement.

“I don’t know why she would come down dressed in that manner,” her sister replied scornfully.

“What say you, Mr Darcy?” Caroline asked with a laugh, as it had not escaped her notice that he had examined her several times but misread his reason.

“I thought it highlighted her form nicely,” Darcy said truthfully, much to her chagrin.

Caroline Bingley could not for the life of her think why this country bumpkin with all her shortcomings fascinated the man. First, her eyes, now her form and in a dress that did nothing to highlight her taste or womanly figure. Without even a glance at her new hand, she threw her cards for this round to sulk.