An (Un)believably Artful Theft (Love’s Little Helpers #4)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

B y the time dinner was called, Georgiana and Miss Elizabeth conversed with their heads bent toward each other like old friends instead of the recent acquaintances they were. Georgiana spoke as much or possibly more than Miss Elizabeth, who smiled and nodded and encouraged her to continue with open interest. Watching them together, Darcy could not have been happier.

Miss Bingley did not appear pleased. Then again, nothing beyond a limited radius of Mayfair pleased her. She did her best to single out Georgiana’s attention at the dinner table, but their group was too small, and Miss Elizabeth was too considerate to attempt to indulge in a private conversation when there were only six other guests to entertain.

Darcy observed silently, knowing that once he involved himself in the conversation, his sister would grow quieter and allow him to take the lead when he would rather she continue. Still, he must be polite. He sensed that if he did not take part soon, Miss Elizabeth would turn to him with her eyebrow arched and that challenging gleam in her eye, and she would put him to task over it. This time, he would beat her to it.

“Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, for repeating a question which has certainly been addressed. I fear my attention was not fully on the subject when Bingley first asked.” Once he had everyone’s attention, he continued, “How is Miss Bennet?”

“She is much improved. In fact, I am pleased to inform you that she hopes to return to Longbourn on the morrow.”

Panic surged through Darcy. So soon? How would he get to London?

She smiled warmly at Georgiana. “I must credit Miss Darcy with Jane’s improved spirits.”

Georgiana’s attempt to look pleased at the compliment failed. She looked miserable, and that was enough for Darcy to determine to persuade the Bennet sisters to stay longer at Netherfield Park.

“On the morrow? How marvelous,” cooed Miss Bingley. “I daresay Miss Bennet, as well as yourself, will be more comfortable in your own home.” She raised her spoon to her mouth in a celebratory fashion.

Bingley objected vehemently. “Miss Bennet must have at least one day more before she ventures out in the cold, otherwise she could suffer greatly from the return in the carriage.” This uncharacteristically authoritative command was promptly followed by a more subdued posture and calmer tone. “That is what Mr. Jones suggested. And I am certain Hurst and Darcy will agree with me that caution in these situations is always preferable.” Darcy did, indeed, agree.

“You cannot keep them here against their will, Charles,” Miss Bingley pointed out.

Dejection was sketched in every feature of Bingley’s face. “Of course not. I would never demand any guest of mine to stay if they were inclined to leave. I am only concerned for Miss Bennet’s health.”

“I do not doubt your concern, Mr. Bingley,” Miss Elizabeth said, “and I thank you for it, but Jane is not so terribly ill. You have attended to her comfort and care remarkably well. So well, in fact, that she has improved enough to return home.”

Darcy held his peace, but only outwardly. Please stay! repeated like an echo in his mind.

Georgiana set down her spoon, the silver gently tapping the side of the china. “I am inclined to agree with Mr. Bingley. Would it not be better to allow Miss Bennet just one day more to recover before she is exposed to the cold and rain again? Really, is there any reason to risk her health when she is so well cared for and welcome here? We made such a merry party this afternoon. It would be a pity for you to leave so soon.”

There was a quiet desperation in her plea that gripped Darcy’s heart and squeezed. He feared that her wish would go unfulfilled, or worse, unnoticed.

All eyes turned to Miss Elizabeth. Had Darcy not known to watch her eyes, he would not have seen her struggle. Had she understood Georgiana’s soft-spoken entreaty? Would she sacrifice her own desire to satisfy the want of another?

With a smile in her voice, Miss Elizabeth replied, “How can we leave after such appeals? Thank you for your concern. My sister possesses a strong constitution and, on the rare occasion when she does fall ill, it never lasts long. However, given the circumstances, I shall recommend to her that we extend our stay one day more.”

Bingley did not clap but very much looked as if he wished to. His happiness was rivaled only by Georgiana, who beamed as brightly as she had the day Darcy brought her first pianoforte to Pemberley. “I can help you read to her in the morning, and if she feels well enough, I would very much like to draw her portrait,” she said excitedly.

Darcy saw his opportunity, and he did not waste it. Pressing his hand against his heart, feigning to be wounded, he said, “No ride in the morning? Am I so easily forgotten?”

Georgiana knew he teased, and she reciprocated. Somberly, she replied, “I am sure you will manage not to get lost without me to guide you. We must all make sacrifices for the comfort of our guests, is that not so, Miss Bingley?”

The lady stayed silent, which was for the best.

“Hear, hear!” Mr. Hurst raised his glass. His exclamation did not garner him any favor with his wife and sister-in-law, but as he promptly returned his attention to his plate, he did not notice.

As for Darcy, his gratitude at Miss Elizabeth’s consideration for his sister knew no bounds. Finally, he had the chance to race to London! His heart felt full to bursting.

Giddy with his unexpected success, Darcy thoroughly enjoyed the rest of dinner. At first glance, he would not have described Miss Elizabeth as a beauty; however, he could not deny that her features became increasingly appealing the longer one contemplated them.

She skillfully engaged the group in conversation, speaking of much more than the weather and the state of the roads. She possessed a curious mind, asking about literature, poetry, politics, estate management, travel, and music. No topic was too dull for her interest. She did not pretend to be an expert in any subject but listened intently. When she made an observation, it was a well-thought-out insight which displayed a firm grasp of the subject under discussion. She learned quickly. Darcy was impressed.

Georgiana, too, participated more in the conversation, providing a glimpse of the fine hostess she would someday become. She brightened in her new friend’s company, and for that, Miss Elizabeth won Darcy’s good opinion. Here was a young lady who brought out the best in those who would benefit from her influence and asked questions with a goal to understand rather than to exhibit her own intelligence. She did not seek to impress anybody but to be taught.

It was a pity such a curious mind did not have access to greater opinions and better authorities than those who sat around Netherfield’s table. Darcy would love to see Miss Elizabeth at one of his uncle’s dinner parties in town, where the elite of diverse professions and advocates of various ideals gathered to debate and sharpen their own insights. She would thrive in such an environment.

He wondered how a young lady so full of life and passion maintained her spiritedness in this ordinary, sheltered place. It was a point he would no doubt continue to ponder along the road on the morrow.

Elizabeth inwardly cursed her sympathetic heart. She saw too much of Jane in Miss Darcy— Georgiana, as she had been given leave to call her. There was a sadness about the girl that Jane did not have, and Elizabeth wondered how one so young and privileged and with such a protective brother as Mr. Darcy could possibly have suffered. She had heard the tremor in Georgiana’s appeal, had seen the desperation in her eyes, and Elizabeth simply could not deny her.

Sitting at the same table with Miss Bingley was torture. Elizabeth did her best to ignore her without being obvious about it. Oh, how she wanted to put her in her place! To give her a taste of the injustice with which her horrible lie plagued Elizabeth!

One more day. Whenever she was tempted to aim a barb at Miss Bingley, she would remind herself that she only needed to behave herself in front of that thieving liar for one more day. She would think of Jane. She would do anything for her sister—had already done so much Jane could never know about. Elizabeth had worked too hard to allow Miss Bingley to spoil it.

Feeling stronger, she was relieved when the gentlemen decided to join the ladies in the drawing room rather than linger over cigars and port. When the men filed into the hall, Elizabeth could see Sarah, the maid attending to her sister, through the open door. She seized the opportunity to cut her evening short and avoid Miss Bingley altogether. Dipping into a curtsy, Elizabeth dismissed herself. “I thank you for a lovely dinner and your lively conversation, but I really must see to Jane.”

Mr. Bingley called Sarah over as he strode into the drawing room. “Perhaps you might report on Miss Bennet’s health before Miss Elizabeth retires for the evening? We are all anxious to know.”

“Miss Bennet finished all of her broth—” Sarah turned from Mr. Bingley to Elizabeth—“and I gave her the sleeping draught you brought for her. She is currently resting.”

Elizabeth would not give up her excuse to leave so easily. She tried another tack. “Then I must go to Remy in the kitchen. ”

The maid clasped her hands in front of her apron and smiled. “He is quite content, I assure you.”

Elizabeth did not doubt it. The kitchen was Remy’s favorite place for obvious reasons. “Still, he is my responsibility, and I do not wish for him to cause anyone any trouble or extra work.”

“He has become a fast favorite below stairs—he even won over Cook. But he is not in the kitchen anymore. He is in the drawing room with Archie.”

Georgiana looped her arm through Elizabeth’s, surprising her with the friendly gesture. “Then we shall continue to enjoy your company while we allow Jane to rest.”

All Elizabeth could do was smile. Only for Jane had she come to Netherfield Park, and she would remain for her sake and for Georgiana. As Mr. Darcy had indicated the previous day, the sisters would have their way.

When he spotted them, Archie stood from the cushion he had been laying on in the corner of the drawing room. Remy pranced in place beside him, his tail swishing against the wallpaper and thwacking between Archie and the wall. Elizabeth wished she could confide her woes to her furry friend, but now was not the time.

“Good boy. Stay.” At that, Remy sat, wiggling in place, tongue lolling and looking like he smiled. Remy would have to stay in the spot designated for the dogs unless Mr. Bingley permitted them to join .

“Is he always so well-behaved?” asked Darcy with a crooked smile.

Elizabeth caught Georgiana’s eye, and together they laughed. “So long as there are no open carriage doors to jump through,” Georgiana teased.

“Oh, yes,” Elizabeth said with a laugh, “that is too much temptation for any dog, much less an exemplary specimen like Remy.”

Miss Bingley cleared her throat. “Archie is incredibly well-mannered and of superior intelligence.”

Arching her brow, Elizabeth was wickedly content that her archenemy was not in on their little joke. “I have no doubt of it.”

Mr. Hurst settled at one end of a couch, tapping his leg and whistling, causing both dogs to perk their ears. When he issued a clear “Come!” Remy wiggled over to rest his muzzle on Mr. Hurst’s knee. “Your best guest yet, Bingley!” the gentleman chuckled.

Mr. Bingley turned red, and Mrs. Hurst elbowed her husband, eliciting a clueless look from the man and a shifting of position of Remy so that he sat between their feet, his muzzle now resting on Mrs. Hurst’s lap, his big eyes looking lovingly up at her.

Elizabeth looked down at her hands and tried to control her countenance. Archie made a sound which sounded so much like a sigh that she was sorely tempted to call him from his pillow. She would have done so had Miss Bingley not been intent on showing how superior his manners were to Remy’s. Therefore, Elizabeth gave the canine her most sympathetic look and determined to spare some time to throw his ball for him on the morrow.

And then Remy did the unthinkable. He placed his paw on the couch. Miss Bingley pounced at his lack of propriety. “Archie is not allowed on the couch. He is trained to lie only on his cushion. He will not leave it unless his name is called.”

Her sister and brother-in-law were too busy tending to Remy to pay her any notice, and the paw remained on the couch.

Bingley called for Archie, rewarding his obedient dog with a pat on the head and scratches behind his ears. The dog looked behind at Remy, who now lay contentedly on his back with his two newfound friends rubbing his belly and cooing to him like he was a baby.

Judging by his expression, Archie was dissatisfied with his lot, although not nearly as displeased as Miss Bingley appeared to be. After glancing at the couch, then over at his cushion, he trotted over to his corner and picked up the cushion in his mouth. Then he carried it to the couch where the Hursts sat. With a jerk of his neck, he flicked the cushion onto the sofa. Soon he was sitting on it in the space between the Hursts, who were primed toward leniency thanks to Remy.

“Bad boy!” Miss Bingley gasped.

Bingley burst into laughter. “Clever boy! He did not disobey!”

Mrs. Hurst rewarded him with some affection. “You are too clever for your own good. See, Caro, how he sits on his cushion? You cannot rightly reprimand him.”

Everyone laughed except her sister who, red-faced and stiff-jawed, rose to her feet with a forced smile. “With so little to do in the country, we must make our own entertainment. Shall I play for you?”

Nobody prevented her from sitting at the pianoforte, although no one suffered from want of entertainment.