Page 20 of The Engagement at Longbourn

Mr. Bennet noticed that too. “Do you dislike him?”

“Yes.”

A pause.

“Mostly.”

“Ah.”

“Do not ‘ah’ at me.”

“I said nothing.”

“You said a great deal.”

He came around the desk and kissed her forehead. “You will not be forced, Lizzy. Not by gossip, not by a countess, not by ten thousand pounds, and certainly not by a gentleman who cannot remember proposing.”

“Thank you.”

“Though if you refuse him, I advise waiting until he can stand without assistance. It seems only sporting.”

She swatted his arm.

In the drawing room, meanwhile, Lady Matlock had discovered Mrs. Bennet. This was not difficult. Mrs. Bennet was impossible to overlook once recovered from shock.

“Ten thousand a year,” she whispered to the countess, with the reverence of one discussing a cathedral. “Not that money signifies when a gentleman is ill, of course. I would have given him my best sheets if he had only ten pounds. But ten thousand!”

Lady Matlock’s mouth twitched. “My nephew is fortunate in his income.”

“And his looks,” Mrs. Bennet said candidly. “When he is not feverish. Though I used to think him very proud. He hardly danced at the assembly.”

“Fanny,” Mr. Bennet said from the doorway. “What? Lady Matlock must know her own nephew is proud.”

The Earl laughed aloud.

Lady Matlock turned to her husband. “I like her.”

Mrs. Bennet looked delighted.

Richard muttered, “God help us.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

What Darcy Remembered

Darcy woke on the sixth morning after his accident to the sound of two men arguing quietly about whether he was awake.

“He moved,” Richard said.

“People move in sleep,” Dr. Morrison replied.

“I know that.”

“Your medical education continues to astound.”

Darcy opened his eyes.

Richard leaned over him. “There. You see?”