Page 3 of To India with Mr. Darcy
E lizabeth sat cross-legged on her narrow bed, running her fingers along the leather spine of a book she had intended to read but had instead left forgotten in her lap. The dim glow of the lantern cast a warm, flickering light against the wooden walls of their cabin, swaying in rhythm with the gentle motion of the ship.
Jane, seated at the small writing desk, carefully folded away a letter she had been composing to their father. Though she knew it would be weeks or months before he read her words, so she secured the pages with a neat ribbon, smoothing her hands over the paper before turning to Elizabeth.
“I think Papa will be pleased to know we are settling in well,” she said with a soft smile. “I wish there were a way to send letters before we reach the next port. He and Mama must already miss us dreadfully.”
Elizabeth smirked. “Oh, I do not doubt that Mama misses you dreadfully.” She tapped the book against her knee in thought. “She is likely fretting that your absence will cost her the chance of securing you a husband by year’s end.”
Jane shook her head fondly. “And you do not think she misses you?”
“Oh, I am certain she does,” Elizabeth said, stretching out her legs. “But I rather suspect she consoles herself with the knowledge that I am the least promising daughter in that regard.”
Jane laughed softly. “She would not say so in those words.”
“No, but she has said it in other words.”
They both grinned before falling into a companionable silence, the only sound the occasional groan of the ship’s timbers as it rocked ever so slightly on the waves. They’d been at sea for less than a day, and yet Elizabeth found herself used to the movement already.
Then Jane said, in a voice that was both careful and unstudied, “Mr Bingley is very kind, is he not?”
Elizabeth’s lips curled. “Oh? Are we already at the stage where he is Mr Bingley and not simply that agreeable gentleman ?”
Jane’s cheeks coloured, and she let out a quiet laugh. “You are dreadful.”
Elizabeth propped herself up on one elbow, watching her sister with interest. “I am observant. And I observed that Mr Bingley hardly took his eyes off you when we were at dinner.”
Jane shook her head, though the flush on her cheeks deepened. “That is untrue.”
“It is entirely true. And I observed something else—you hardly seemed to mind. If anything, it took your mind off your nerves about this trip.”
Jane looked away, smoothing her fingers over the edge of the desk. “It is only that he is so pleasant. There is a warmth about him that cannot be feigned.”
Elizabeth softened, delighted to see her sister’s quiet happiness. “It is true. He is one of the most amiable men I have ever met.”
Jane hesitated. “But I do not wish to be foolish.”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “Why should you think yourself foolish?”
Jane sighed, turning back towards her. “We have had merely one dinner with the man. Surely even the worst of gentlemen can be amiable for one dinner.”
Elizabeth smiled knowingly. “Actually, no. I disagree. One cannot pretend to be amiable if one doesn’t have an amiable bone in one’s body. Just look at his companion, Mr Darcy.”
Jane suppressed a smirk. “You are a terrible, Lizzie. You know that, don’t you?”
“Jane,” Elizabeth said firmly. “There is no harm in liking a person who is entirely likable.”
Jane bit her lip. “Yes, but he is the likable one. I do not suppose I am anything remarkable to him.”
Elizabeth let out an incredulous laugh. “My dear Jane, you are positively absurd if you believe Mr Bingley is as charming to every woman as he was to you at dinner.”
Jane frowned, thoughtful. “You truly think so?”
“I know so. And I shall prove it. At breakfast tomorrow morning, observe how he speaks to every lady at the table. He will be courteous, of course, but different—not nearly so interested, nor so attentive. He may be friendly by nature, but I do not believe he is so friendly that he concerns himself with whether all the ladies aboard this ship suffer from seasickness or are worried about missing home.”
Jane gave a soft laugh at that, shaking her head. “He was very thoughtful, was he not?”
Elizabeth grinned. “Quite gallant, I daresay.”
They shared a small, knowing smile before Jane stood and moved to the small mirror bolted to the wall, absently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
Elizabeth watched her sister for a moment before saying, “Do you think Mama would approve of him?”
Jane hesitated. “Oh, undoubtedly. He is charming, wealthy, and of good standing.”
Elizabeth sat up straighter, folding her legs beneath her. “But you, dear Jane. Would you approve of him?”
Jane turned back towards her, something thoughtful and hopeful in her expression. “I think I already do.”
Elizabeth’s smile widened. “Well, then, I suppose you shall just have to find out if he is worth all this trouble, shan’t you?”
Jane shook her head fondly before blowing out the lantern beside her bed. “You are incorrigible, Lizzie.”
“And you, dearest Jane, are smitten.”
Jane only sighed in amusement as she climbed into bed, and Elizabeth tucked herself under her own covers, staring up at the ceiling with a small, satisfied smile.