31. Chapter 31

Given Good Principles Vol 2: The Future Mrs. Darcy has just been released on July 2, 2012 . Please forgive the delays on my posting that the publishing caused.

I have included a bonus at the end of this chapter, the first chapter of The Future Mrs. Darcy, for your pleasure.

Chapter 31

After several minutes, the chill night air penetrated the thin muslin of Lizzy's dress. What am I going to do? How am I to get home? I have nothing with me. I cannot go back to the manor or the parsonage. I have no friends here… Marauding fear gripped her, threatening to steal her away.

She pushed herself to her feet, cursing at the sharp pain in her ankle. She took a tentative step and nearly fell. A cry tore from her lips, an unwilling admission of desperation. She hobbled to the gate, clutching at the fence post and panting for breath. After a few minutes, she tested her ankle again, relieved that the pain had dulled. At least he has not stolen this from me too. I will not have to spend the night on his lawn.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of deer bound across the moonlit pasture. Mr. Clark! She looked about, trying to get her bearing on the eerie, silvery landscape. A sharp breeze cut through her dress, sending a shiver across her shoulders. It smells like it might snow tonight. Rubbing her upper arms briskly, she set out in the direction of the curate's cottage.

Several minutes later, she heard pounding hooves. She looked over her shoulder and shrieked at the sight of a huge, shadowy form bearing down on her. Stumbling on her injured ankle, she tumbled to the ground. A horse screamed and reared above her. She huddled, arms thrown over her head for the little protection that they could offer. A hand on her shoulder. A shriek in a voice that sounded much like her own—it was her own!

"Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy's voice resonated in the night air. "What are you doing out here, all alone in the middle of the night?"

She saw his face in profile in the moonlight. Her chest tightened, torn between relief and anxiety. The intensity of his gaze stole her breath away.

"You should get back to the parsonage, it is not safe for you out here, and it is far too cold to be out without—"

"No! I cannot!" She pushed him away.

"Collins is a fool, I know. Now is not the time to be unreasonable. Consider—"

"You do not understand, I truly mean that I cannot! He…he…put me out of the house… told me not to return…that he would turn me over to the magistrate for trespassing…" Her words ended in a sob.

"He did what?" Darcy shouted. He took her by the arm and forced her to face him.

"You heard me!" She tore her arm out of his grasp and clutched her self tightly. "He will not tolerate me under his roof any longer." Her cheeks burned hot, stinging in the chill breeze.

Darcy muttered several untoward phrases under his breath.

"Such language, Mr. Darcy!" she chided. "But of course you are not in the presence of a true lady…" She turned away, pulled her shoulders back and tried to walk away with dignity, but only managed a weak hobbling step.

"You are hurt!" He rushed to her and took her hands in his. "I must see you safe. We will talk about the rest of this matter more. I have not finished my conversation with you by any means. But now is not the time, and this is not the place."

"Mr. Darcy…"

"I am not at my leisure to argue with you now. I am on my way to get the doctor for my aunt."

"Oh no, another attack?" Lizzy's countenance changed, her mind racing.

"Yes. I must go…"

"Of course, go! I will see if I can get back to the manor to help. It is not far" Lizzy drew a determined breath.

"No, Anne would have you put out just as quickly as Collins did. She is not in her right mind at the moment. Nor will I leave you here. It is not safe. Come, you must ride with me. To the doctor's, then I will take you to the curate's house. I am sure they will receive you there. In any case, I need to call him to the manor after I get the doctor."

She began to protest, but changed her mind. "I will not delay you with an argument."

He pulled Surtur to them. She approached the stirrup, expecting him to help her step up into it, but instead was surprised at the feeling of Darcy's hands on her waist. A moment later, she felt him swing into the saddle and wrap one arm securely around her. The warmth of his presence penetrated the chill and eased some of the ache in her chest. He kicked the stallion into motion. The horse's powerful muscles bunched beneath her thighs. Suddenly they were racing across the estate, cold wind biting at her face.

On the frenzied ride, she could not hold a thought. The cold wind, the pounding hooves and, most of all, the heat of his powerful arm surrounding her, all drove conscious thought from her mind. At the doctor's house, she dismounted and hid herself in Surtur's shadow while Darcy hurried into the house to summon aid. The stallion snorted and pushed his head into her hand, demanding attention.

Her rational mind knew Darcy was only gone a few minutes, but, huddled against Surtur for warmth and protection, time crawled to nearly a standstill. Her heart pounded and knees trembled as she tried to contemplate her circumstance. Collins had thrown her out! How could he do such a thing? No civilized relation would ever treat someone that way! What kind of a man had Charlotte married? And what kind of man have I rejected?

Darcy thundered out of the house and helped her back onto Surtur. A moment later, he took his position behind her. "The doctor will be on his way in a few moments." He kicked Surtur into motion.

The stallion danced in place a moment, still unfamiliar with their combined weight, then plunged into a trot.

"Lady Catherine told me about her condition," Lizzy said, pressing back into his shoulder lest her voice be lost in the wind.

"Then you will not be surprised to know that her situation is very serious. I do not hold much hope right now." Darcy's warm breath caressed her ear.

"Why did you not send a servant for the doctor?"

His shoulders stiffened. "I could not stand to be in the house a moment more. My cousin is…intolerable. I am sorry for what you learned from her lips. I should have told you myself." He sagged against her.

"What is done is done. Do not speak of it anymore." She shook her head, her cheek bumping against his, the stubble rasping her face.

"We will speak of it, Miss Bennet. I am not prepared to let the subject rest." He pressed his heels into Sutur's side.

"But I wish to leave it be." She tried to look at him over her shoulder, but the stallion's gait prevented it.

"I am a stubborn man, and I will be heard."

"I am a stubborn woman, sir."

"So I have been told." He pulled her to him more tightly.

She knew she should object to this familiarity, but could not bring herself to fight his embrace, certain she would never know it again. Far too quickly, they were at the curate's house. Darcy banged at the door. Lizzy shivered in the cold air. He stood closer, pressing himself against her back.

The door creaked open, and Mr. Clarke appeared in his nightcap and dressing gown. Darcy quickly explained as Clarke ushered them into the cottage, calling for his wife.

Darcy sped away on Surtur. Mr. Clarke followed shortly on foot.

Mrs. Clarke put on a pot of water for tea and made up a plate of biscuits. "'Tis a shame about the Lady. She isn't such a bad sort once you get used to her. She was indeed overbearing, but her heart wished the best for her people." She pressed the biscuits toward Lizzy, not relenting until she took one.

Lizzy nibbled at the shortbread without tasting it. "You speak of her as though she was already dead."

"It is only a matter of time, lass." Mrs. Clarke landed heavily in her chair and propped her feet on the low table. "I tended her a bit after her last attack, and there weren't no doubt that the next would surely kill her."

"It is my fault," Lizzy gasped. "I have—"

"Killed her?" Mrs. Clarke shook her head and winked. "No, you have not. Not even you have that kind of influence, Miss Bennet. If you think you do, you have been in charge of far too much of so young a lass." Mrs. Clarke looked at her critically. "How long has your mother been gone?"

"Five years now." Lizzy looked down and set her biscuit on a napkin. "Does it show so clearly?"

"I'm afraid it does. You are far too ready to be responsible for too much. Does not your father…no that is right, Mrs. Collins has spoken of him."

"Does she speak of anything else? It seems the whole of Kent knows of him!" Lizzy rubbed her face with her hands, combing back windblown strands from her face. "Her husband is my father's heir, and will inherit Longbourn."

"That is not why Mrs. Collins speaks of you all so often." Mrs. Clarke chuckled. "She is fond of him and proud of you all. She cannot help but brag a bit, I think. I suppose. She is your cousin by marriage now, is she not? It is only natural to boast on your family."

A sharp rap at the door startled them both.

"Surely there can be no news coming from the manor yet." Mrs. Clarke pushed herself up from her chair and shuffled to the door. She cracked it open and gasped.

Lizzy rose. "What is wrong?"

"Mrs. Collins!" Mrs. Clarke opened the door further to reveal Charlotte, without any wrap, head down and shivering. "Come in!" She took Charlotte by the arm and dragged her inside.

The clank of the bolt snapping into place chilled Lizzy to the bone. She rushed to the entryway. "Charlotte? What are you doing here?"

Charlotte slowly raised her head, gulping loudly. Bruises covered the left side of her face. Her left eye swelled over a deep purple crescent. Traces of dried blood clung to her chin below a puffy split lip. She brushed tendrils of hair from a ruined coiffeur out of her face with a hand bearing more scrapes and bruises, pulling up the sleeve of her gown torn from the bodice at the shoulder, attached by only a few threads.

"What happened?" Lizzy wrapped her arm around Charlotte and led her into the front room.

Charlotte's lip quivered and her breath shuddered.

"You were not put upon on your way here, were you?" Mrs. Clarke said, clucking her tongue, making it more of a statement than a question. She poured a cup of tea and pressed it into Charlotte's hands.

Charlotte stared into the cup with empty eyes, the cup rattling against the saucer in her trembling hands. Tears welled up and spilled over, eventually dripping into the tea.

"Mr. Collins?" Lizzy whispered.

Charlotte pressed her hand over her abdomen. "I felt the baby, Lizzy," she whispered before uncontrollable sobs poured out. She covered his face with her hands and huddled into her lap.

Lizzy wrapped her arms around Charlotte and drew her close. Mrs. Clarke dropped a blanket around Charlotte's shoulders and hugged her from behind.

Charlotte's tears soaked Lizzy's shoulder. "How could he do this?" Lizzy whispered through gritted teeth.

"He has been angry before," Charlotte's strained words were difficult to hear amidst her sobs, "but I have never seen him this way. He has never…never…"

"Struck you?" Lizzy pulled back to look at her.

"No, I thought he might once or twice, though." Charlotte shook her head vigorously. "I told him I was with child. He suddenly became so angry. I have never seen such fury. He…he," she fumbled for a handkerchief. "He was furious that I could have exposed our unborn child to an influence such as you!" Charlotte raised her head and looked into Lizzy's eyes. "He said that even looking upon you was an abomination, and that I must not ever contact you again, lest our child be harmed."

Lizzy ground her teeth, biting her tongue so hard she tasted blood.

"I did not argue with him; there was no point. I just nodded and agreed. Then he was called away back to the manor." Charlotte wrapped her arms over her abdomen and rocked slightly.

Mrs. Clarke moved to sit beside Charlotte on the settee. She took one of Charlotte's hands and held it hard.

"He came back just a little while ago. He says Lady Catherine will not make it through the night. According to him, it is my fault!" She scoured tears from her cheek with her sleeve

"How on earth can he say that?" Lizzy's eyes bulged.

"He says that I invited you, Lizzy, and it was you who pushed her to this point. So it is my fault for bringing you here to…to…kill her." She quivered, struggling to contain another sob.

Lizzy rubbed her back. "And he raised his hand against you—"

"To punish me for bringing you here and to make sure that I never invited—" Charlotte crumpled onto Mrs. Clarke's lap, wracked by heaving cries.

Lizzy and Mrs. Clarke exchanged dark glances. Once Charlotte calmed slightly, Mrs. Clarke said, "Well, you just plan on staying here, Mrs. Collins. You'll not be going back to the parsonage for quite some time, I would say. We will find some way to get you back to your family, now. This is no place for a woman in your delicate condition."

"No, it is not." Lizzy rubbed Charlotte's back. "We will find a way to get you away from here."

Charlotte pushed herself up on her elbows. "But he is my husband. I am bound to him. Oh, Lizzy, you were right. I should never have…"

"Regrets will do no good. We must move forward and try to figure out what to do now, how to remedy this. I know my father will not condone the heir of Longbourn behaving in such a fashion. Perhaps there is some way for Papa to sanction him."

"You know what he thinks of your father!"

"I know." Lizzy frowned. "It was a very foolish thought. We are all too tired to think clearly now. Come, we should try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is likely to be a very difficult one, and we must face it with all our resources available to us."

Mrs. Clarke showed them to a cozy room where they wrapped themselves with rough blankets and slept a troubled slumber.

The first lights of dawn faded into late morning, then noon, before Lizzy and Charlotte finally rose. They tried to help each other straighten the creases out of their dresses, but soon gave up the hopeless effort.

Charlotte paused at the mirror to examine her face. "Oh dear, I will have to keep to the house until this clears. I have never been an adept liar." She sighed and turned away from the dressing table.

"You do not mean to go back to the parsonage, do you?" Lizzy gasped.

"It is my home." Charlotte's shoulders rose and fell with a twitch.

"No, you cannot. I fear for your safety. Remember you fled from the house last night. He will not be any more pleased with you this morning than he was then. I am sure Mrs. Clarke will agree." Lizzy found a hairbrush on the dressing table and began brushing Charlotte's hair.

"But—"

"You have your child to think of as well. If he hurts you, what will he do to your little one?" Lizzy set the brush aside and began to plait Charlotte's thick hair, wound it along the crown of her head and fastened it securely. "Do you wish your child to be exposed to such anger and violence? What will that do to the baby?"

"I do not know. I do not know." She swallowed back something that must have been distasteful.

"Come, you look so peaked. You need to eat." She led Charlotte out and found Mrs. Clarke sitting with her husband at the dining table.

They turned and rose when their guests entered. Both wore grim expressions.

"Lady Catherine?" Lizzy bit her lip.

Mr. Clarke nodded and scratched his head. Rumpled grey hairs stuck out awkwardly along his temple. "She passed just a few hours ago."

"I am sorry to hear that," Charlotte whispered, and slumped into a chair.

Lizzy gasped. "Oh my, I should not have been so—"

"Do not allow yourself to think that way, Miss Bennet." Mr. Clarke gave her a look much like her father's stern warnings. "Nothing you did or failed to do had any bearing on this turn of events. Do not be deceived into misplaced guilt."

Lizzy sighed and slid into a chair beside Charlotte. "How is Miss de Bourgh?"

"Very distraught." Mr. Clarke blew out a deep breath. "Very distraught, indeed. Mr. Collins remained at the manor to offer comfort. She was arguing with Mr. Darcy when I left - something about whether he should continue on his journey to the continent or stay here at Rosings instead. I am afraid it does not look like a good situation."

Mrs. Clarke patted Charlotte's arm. "You look like you are about to cast up your accounts*, dear. Let me get you some tea and toast. That should settle your stomach a bit."

Charlotte smiled weakly and swallowed. "Thank you, yes, I would appreciate it."

Mr. Clarke stared at her.

Charlotte blushed and turned to hide her left cheek.

"Forgive me for gawking, Mrs. Collins, but I do not like what I am seeing." He leaned closer, his hands braced on the table. "Did your husband give you those marks?"

Charlotte bowed her head and stared at her hands. "He was very angry last night."

"That is no excuse. I do not care what the law says, this is wrong." He scowled, cocking his head and straining to get a better glimpse.

"He is my husband." Charlotte's voice was a thin wisp that could shatter at any moment.

"Who should be a protector you trust!" He slapped the table. "I have no doubt he learned behavior at his own father's knee. I will not stand for seeing him teach this to his own son. Please, Mrs. Collins, do not return to him until I have had an opportunity to get through to him." He looked toward the window. "Excuse me a moment. He went to the door and admitted Darcy.

"What news have you, sir?" Mr. Clarke asked, returning to his chair.

Darcy shook his head as he joined them at the simple table. "It is not good." He looked at Lizzy. "With my Aunt's passing, Anne is hysterical. She blames you, Miss Bennet, for her mother's demise. Her feelings are little more charitable toward you, Mrs. Collins. I have done my best to convince her otherwise, but she is of no mind to listen right now." Darcy parked his elbows on the table and scrubbed his face with his hands.

"I am sorry for your loss, sir." Lizzy said softly.

"Thank you, Miss Bennet, but my cousin's loss is far greater, and she is only making it worse by throwing off all sensible counsel. Forgive me, Mrs. Collins…" He saw Charlotte's face for the first time. His jaw dropped. "That cur! He did not—"

Lizzy nodded somberly.

"That is the last straw! I cannot allow such a blackguard to stand alongside Anne."

"You have little choice." Mr. Clarke shook his head. "She has made her decision, and you have little say in the matter. Not to mention, as I understood, you have a ship leaving from Dover soon."

"Unfortunately, that is true. I must leave directly if I am to bring the news to London and still make passage." He took the tea Mrs. Clarke handed to him and turned to Lizzy. "I must satisfy myself that you, both of you, are safe. Clearly you cannot stay here."

Lizzy nodded stiffly. "I am afraid you are correct, we cannot stay. I will send an express to my father, and he will send a carriage for us."

"That will take days to arrange. I am not content to leave you here for that long. Forgive me, but I do not trust Mr. Collins or Anne in their current states. If you will permit me, I will arrange for one of my aunt's carriages to take you to London. As I understand, you have relations there?"

Lizzy glanced at Charlotte. "My aunt and uncle live in Cheapside, sir. I am sure they will be most willing to take us in."

"Excellent. I will see you safely there, as I must bring the news to Matlock House." Darcy chewed his lower lip, eyes on the table.

Mrs. Clarke shared a knowing glance with her husband.

"Is Mr. Collins still at Rosings?" Mr. Clarke asked.

"I expect he will be for some time." Darcy turned toward Charlotte.

"Then, we should get you to the parsonage to pack for your trip." Mrs. Clarke pushed back from the table.

Mr. Clarke followed. "If you will forgive me, I do not feel safe allowing them to go by themselves."

Darcy rose and bowed. "Certainly, I must be going soon myself." He turned back to Lizzy. "I took the liberty of asking the housekeeper to see your trunks packed and sent here."

"Thank you, that was very considerate."

They watched as Charlotte and the Clarkes left.

Darcy offered her his arm. "Please, Miss Bennet, would you walk in the garden with me for a moment?"

She nodded and followed him out, stopping as soon as the door shut behind them. "Thank you so much for your assistance, sir. I can hardly fathom this turn of events. I have never known a gentleman—"

Darcy grumbled "Forgive me, but your cousin is no gentleman, despite the status his position might grant him."

"I am afraid I agree with you. This is most unexpected, and I fear I was in no way prepared to deal with it. I am deeply indebted to you for your assistance." She smiled and looked up at him.

"I am very glad to offer what I can." He broke the intimacy of their gaze and began to walk, turning his eyes to the path ahead. "I hope then, you will not think me too forward in asking a favor from you."

"What might I do for you?" She tried to find the spot on the ground he focused on and share it with him.

"My aunt was in the process of planning my sister's wedding. With my uncle's condition, I am sure you understand the necessity for it to be accomplished quickly."

"I do." She sighed, glancing toward the parsonage.

"You are wondering what my sister's thoughts on the marriage are." He peered at the three figures approaching the distant cottage. "You will be pleased to hear, my sister is content. After what she has been through, she is satisfied with a man she can trust, and she does trust Andrew. They were always good friends before this sad business, and have become closer though their correspondence during his absence. It is an agreeable situation for them both."

"I am to glad to hear that." She suppressed the urge to glance at him. "I could not imagine you forcing your sister into a disagreeable arrangement."

"I am honored by your faith in me." He reached to cover her hand on his arm, but he stopped before their fingers touched. "I wish for her happiness. That is why I must ask your assistance. Since the wedding can no longer take place here at Rosings, we must plan for it in London."

"What do you wish me to do?" She peeked up at him and had to quickly turn away, lest she be caught in the tenderness of his eyes.

"My Aunt Matlock is far too preoccupied with my uncle to be able to plan a wedding. Although neither Georgiana nor Andrew desires a great deal of pomp and circumstance, I still would like for her to have a pleasing wedding breakfast for the family and a few close friends. I know you to be very capable, and I hope that you might be willing to handle the planning for the event. I have a sent Georgiana a letter explaining all this to her, and asking her to come to London. I have also written my housekeeper, explaining the situation to her and instructing her to assist you in any way you need."

"Sir, I am honored that you would trust me with such an important family event. Surely there must be someone in the family—"

"No, I am afraid there is not. My sister has lost so much, and I want very much for her to have a pleasing wedding celebration. I do not trust anyone in the family to honor what she would like and listen to her preferences. So, I would be most grateful for your help if you are willing."

Lizzy stopped and turned to face him. "I am honored by your trust in me. You are doing Mrs. Collins and me such a very great favor, I would be happy to help you in any way I can."

Darcy exhaled heavily, a small smile crinkling his eyes. "Thank you, Miss Bennet. I hope my journey will be brief and successful, and that I will see you and my sister in London soon." He took her hand and bowed over it. "If you will excuse me, I will gather my things and return with the coachmen."

"Of course, sir." Her heart ached as she watched him walk away.

*cast up one's accounts: to vomit

Special Bonus:

Given Good Principles Vol 2: The Future Mrs. Darcy

Chapter 1

Early Spring, 1812

It is a truth universally acknowledged that wherever men in red coats gather, foolish young women follow.

The militia regiment had arrived in Meryton a week ago, and it was high time for them to be introduced to the community. The mayor, Sir William Lucas, well known among his neighbors for his love of good society and a good meal, liked nothing better than to make introductions. His parlor provided the ideal location for the officers to make a good impression.

Lydia bounced and chattered more than usual during the ride to Lucas Lodge, a difficult thing to accomplish with all six Bennet ladies squeezed into the coach at once. Elizabeth had offered to walk and allow them additional space.

"No, Lizzy, I do not want you seen arriving on foot. Besides, your petticoats would be six inches deep in mud by the time you arrived. I insist you ride with the rest of your sisters." Mrs. Bennet finished with a flourish that meant the discussion was indeed over.

When the coachman finally handed her out of the carriage, Elizabeth hid her sigh of relief in a discreet, ladylike cough. Mama shepherded Kitty and Lydia ahead of her and scolded them for being so long at their dressing tables that the Carvers had arrived before them. Jane and Mary followed at a less anxious pace. Elizabeth lagged behind and shook out her skirts, more to enjoy a brief moment of silence than to repair the state of her gown.

Mr. Bennet dismounted his horse and passed the reins to the driver. "Perhaps you ought to offer to ride Bessie next time. You would escape the carriage, and your petticoats would remain clean." He straightened his top hat and offered her his arm.

"I hardly believe Mama considers the smell of horse more fashionable than muddy skirts." She took his elbow and leaned her head on his shoulder.

He patted her hand. "If you say so, dear."

The modest parlor of Lucas Lodge, papered and painted in the style of years gone by, brimmed with guests. Sir William stood at the center of the room. His welcoming voice and laugh, both a fuzzy basso profundo rumble, filled the air. Young ladies surrounded him: Kitty, Lydia, his youngest daughter, Maria, and the fashionably dressed Carver sisters, Martha and Rachel.

"I dare say this will be a memorable season for Lydia." Mr. Bennet turned to Elizabeth with a raised eyebrow. "First, the Carvers take Netherfield." The corner of his lips rose ever so slightly. "I never thought to encounter another girl as silly as your youngest sister, and lo, not one, but two move into the neighborhood. Now the regiment camps among us. Any more excitement and she will be in danger of apoplexy."

A wry smile crept over Elizabeth's face. "Mama appears quite content. I daresay, Lydia shall be able to bear it as well." Her brow quirked, and her eyes flickered toward Mama in the far corner of the room, deep in conference with Lady Lucas and Aunt Phillips.

"You should go on, have your share of introductions while I partake of Sir William's library. He recently received a new collection that I am most anxious to examine." He winked and walked away.

She scanned the room.

Mary stood near the pianoforte and talked with Mr. Pierce, the hawk-nosed curate whose velvet voice left young ladies sighing. Her eyes glittered, adding volume to her quiet smile. Mary pulled her hair back a bit too tight and wore her collars a bit too high for most young men to pay attention to her. Only rarely did gentlemen take the time to speak with her. Mr. Pierce's popularity ensured others would soon interrupt, so Elizabeth sought other company.

Jane and Charlotte waved her over. She edged her way around the parlor.

"I thought I would not be able to make it across the room." Elizabeth sidled in close to Jane and Charlotte to clear the way for a scurrying maid. "Sir William has outdone himself tonight."

"You there, mind your step." Mr. Carver jumped aside. The punch glasses he carried in either hand nearly spilled.

Elizabeth cringed. Mr. Carver's nasal voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck. He moved like a portly heron, head bobbing forward and back, feet lifting a mite too high as he walked.

"Here." He pushed a cup at Jane's shoulder.

Jane blanched a bit and screwed her eyes shut. She blinked several times and turned to him with a paper-thin smile. "Thank you."

"I detest clumsy servants," he mumbled into his cup. "Gah, this is too sweet." He smacked his lips.

"I will inform my mother, sir." Charlotte nodded amiably, but a tiny "V" shaped crease deepened between her eyes.

"Be sure and do that. I wish to sit. Miss Bennet?" He took Jane by the elbow and guided her to a pair of chairs near the fireplace.

"At least his sisters are more agreeable." Elizabeth huffed. Her nostrils flared ever so slightly.

"Jane finds his company pleasant."

"She bears it well enough, I suppose, though I detect no symptoms of peculiar regard in her demeanor." Elizabeth pulled herself up and peered down her nose to ape any one of a number of women they both knew.

"Lizzy!" Charlotte snickered behind her hand. "He will hear you."

"Not likely. Look how he glowers at his sisters."

"They stand far too close to those officers." Charlotte's lips pulled tight. "At least Lydia and Maria keep a more proper distance."

Elizabeth rubbed the back of her neck. "I do not expect that to last very long."

Charlotte chewed her knuckle "No, it will not." She pointed her chin at the pianoforte.

Lydia skipped toward Mary, three lieutenants and an ensign in her wake. Kitty led a wave of young ladies behind them.

"I expect Mary will play a dance soon." Elizabeth wrinkled her nose.

"I thought you liked to dance."

"You know I am fond of dancing. It is having my toes trod upon I dread." Elizabeth glanced down and wiggled her foot towards the soldiers' boots. "Imagine the attack those hessians might wreak upon one's slippers."

Charlotte pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. She trembled with the effort to contain her amusement.

"Look at them, tripping over themselves to ask our sisters for a dance. Such grace does not bode well for a jig." The corner of Elizabeth's lips twitched.

Mary played a few chords while Rachel and Martha Carver directed the officers to roll up the carpet. Elizabeth and Charlotte dodged other guests who hurried off the hastily prepared dance floor. The couples took their places.

Only Lydia's partner showed any sense of rhythm. At least the others laughed heartily at their own missteps. A good sense of humor was a most desirable trait in a man, and essential for a clumsy one.

Carver did not share their amusement. He sat beside Jane, a deep scowl etched on his face. She squirmed and scuffed her slippers along the floor. Her cheeks tinged pink, not the pale blush of pleasure, but the ruddy glow of discomfiture. Jane needed rescue, so Elizabeth set off on her mission.

"—I do not understand why a knight like Sir William hosts these ruffians. I could easily do without the whole lot of them," Mr. Carver muttered into his fist.

Jane acknowledged Elizabeth with a quick nod. "Sir William is a great lover of company. To overlook—"

"Stuff and nonsense." Carver flicked his fingers. "I will not condone their presence at Netherfield's ball next month. The regiment is most assuredly not invited."

"Are you not concerned with giving offense?" The color crept from Jane's cheeks up her temples and down along her jaw.

"A man may do as he chooses in his own home. You cannot mean to say—"

"Excuse me." Elizabeth tucked herself between their chairs to accommodate a woman of ample proportions as she struggled to get past them. "Mr. Carver, might I steal my sister away for a few moments?"

He crossed his arms and tore his eyes from his sisters to peer narrowly at Elizabeth. "Certainly." He rose, bowed to Jane, and stalked into a knot of twittering young ladies.

"I do not envy them." Elizabeth took his seat. "He is quite severe on the Miss Carvers. If his face becomes any redder, I fear he may do himself an injury."

"His concern for them is not so terrible." Jane peeked over her shoulder.

"Do you suggest other young ladies might benefit from…stricter supervision?" Elizabeth followed Jane's gaze.

Lydia sat amongst three spellbound lieutenants who listened to her chatter. She granted them all pretty smiles and coquettish gazes. Kitty stood a few steps away with Maria. Both exerted themselves to gain the attention of an ensign whose eyes were firmly on Lydia.

"Are you not at all concerned?" Jane asked.

"Papa is not alarmed."

"Mr. Carver—"

"You cannot please everyone, Jane. Mr. Carver is the sort of man who will always be dissatisfied with something. Since everything displeases him, why be concerned with any of it?"

"But—"

"No, he is a curmudgeon. Even Papa says so. Do not take his complaints to heart." Elizabeth pulled Jane to her feet. "Come, Sir William wants to make introductions. It will not do to be rude to our neighbor even for Mr. Carver's sake. If the officers are a bit boorish, still, what harm is there in the acquaintance?"