Page 13 of Courting Elizabeth

“Perhaps he's come for Lizzy,” said Lydia.

Silence fell.

My mother turned to me.

I took a sip of tea that wouldn't go down.

“Why would he come for Lizzy?” she asked.

“Because he was always looking at her at Netherfield.”

“He looked at everyone as if he regretted their existence.”

The drawing room door opened before Lydia could defend her observation.

Mr Darcy entered.

He greeted my mother, my sisters, and me with impeccable propriety. Only his gaze, when it met mine, betrayed the importance of this visit. A restrained warmth flickered there, then vanished behind his reserve.

“Mrs Bennet,” he said, “may I request an interview with Mr Bennet?”

My mother opened her mouth.

No sound emerged.

I never would have believed I could witness such a remarkable phenomenon.

“My husband is in his library,” she finally replied. “I shall have him called.”

“I would prefer, if you permit, to go to him myself.”

“Of course. Certainly. Lizzy, show Mr Darcy the way.”

“I know the way,” he interjected, before my mother could transform a walk down the corridor into a compromising tête-à-tête.

He bowed, then left the drawing room.

The door closed.

Four faces turned to me.

“Well?” my mother demanded.

“Well what?”

“You know why he wishes to speak to your father.”

Jane lowered her eyes to hide her smile.

“Perhaps Mr Darcy has a question about hunting,” I suggested.

“He didn't come all the way from Kent to talk about partridges!”

“He might be very devoted to their fate.”

My mother pressed a hand to her chest.

“Elizabeth, if you're hiding something of such consequence from me, I shall never recover.”