“I am wet quite through,” she said, “so I will not pretend a fire would be unwelcome. But I will not have a servant sent thewhole way to Lambton and back over a gown, Mr. Darcy. Dry me by a fire, and the dress will mend itself.”
“Then it is settled,” said Darcy, with a satisfaction out of all proportion to so small a matter.
Miss Elizabeth spoke with her aunt, who nodded, and they all traipsed back up to the house.
Mrs. Reynolds appeared the very instant they all passed into the house. She bore Miss Elizabeth and her aunt off to a private room, a good fire, and whatever dry things they could furnish.
Darcy was left standing in his ruined clothes. After a moment, he took himself off to the family wing, to find a dry coat and what command of himself he could.
CHAPTER 8
Elizabeth’s gown had been blotted clean and laid before the fire to dry, while she was wrapped in a dressing gown and instructed, with all Mrs. Reynolds’s authority, to drink tea and warm herself.
Her stockings, which had only been a little damp, had been carried off without ceremony and replaced from some inexhaustible Pemberley store with a pair so fine that Elizabeth was almost sorry to put her feet in them. A pair of slippers had also appeared, which fit her well enough.
“I have been dressed by Pemberley,” Elizabeth informed her aunt, who was sitting at the same fire and looking very comfortable. “I shall never again be content with Longbourn’s stockings.”
“Pray do not accustom yourself too quickly to Pemberley comforts,” said Aunt Gardiner, with a little smile. “It is always best for one’s allowance to rise before one’s standards.”
Elizabeth looked down at the borrowed stockings and heldout one leg. “Do you think Mrs. Reynolds would notice if I kept these?”
“Yes.”
“How unfortunate. I had begun to form an attachment.”
“Youhaveformed an attachment,” said Aunt Gardiner, turning her feet towards the fire. “But I do not believe it is to the stockings.”
Elizabeth’s eyes moved quickly to the tea in her cup. “Have I?”
Her aunt smiled and said nothing.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I believe you know, but in any case, I am not required to explain everything I have observed.”
There was something in the way Aunt Gardiner said it—mild, dry, a little too innocent—that Elizabeth elected not to examine.
Mrs. Reynolds returned then, and Elizabeth’s gown was pronounced fit to be worn. A maid shook out Elizabeth’s petticoat one last time and then helped her dress. Mrs. Reynolds stood back, considered the whole, and gave a small nod.
“There,” she said. “You will do very well, miss.”
Elizabeth thanked them both and exchanged the slippers for her half-boots.
Her aunt rose and accepted her shawl from the maid. Before she turned away, she gave Elizabeth one brief look that saidNot finished, my dear. Only delayed.
Mrs. Reynolds led them into the passage and down to a parlour. Inside the room, Henry Atherton sat on his mother’s lap, dressed in dry clothes, wrapped in a blanket, and holding a biscuit in one fist. Miss Atherton, who appeared weary of everyone making such a fuss over her brother, sat very composed upon a stool and watched the proceedings.
“May I ask after Mr. Atherton?” Aunt Gardiner asked as they came inside.
Mrs. Atherton smiled. “Mr. Atherton satisfied himself that Henry was breathing and cross, and then I sent him back to his fishing. I have quite enough to manage without my husband underfoot.”
When Elizabeth came to sit near the fire, Mrs. Atherton reached across, took her hand, and held it.
“I have not thanked you,” she said, in a low voice. “I find I cannot do it properly without disgracing myself, so I shall do it badly and you must forgive me. If you had not alerted everyone?—”
“It was nothing, Mrs. Atherton,” Elizabeth demurred. “It was Mr. Darcy who?—”
“Mr. Darcy carried him out of the marquee,” said Mrs. Atherton. “I know that. But it was you who saw the danger and called it out.”