36 • Stain
“I suppose I should have expected this.”
“It’s my wedding, of course I’d come,” Jane scolded while they meandered through the aisles of flora in all states of growth.
James sent an apologetic glance to William on the other side of the bright pink blossoms. The latter only had a moment to absorb it, however, as Charles asked from behind him, “How does this work, exactly? Does the ornamentation match Jane? And if so, should the gown not be decided upon first?”
Georgiana turned to them from beside the glass panes of the building, where a great deal of vinery was trying to take over the northern side of the room. “Have you decided upon it?”
Jane shook her head while she grasped her brother’s hand to stop him to admire a number of cyclamens. “I think overall I know what qualities I would like, but I haven’t any idea what goes into the making of such a thing.”
Charlotte intercepted, “You’re not using an heirloom? Alterations would be far easier than crafting something new. And commissioning a gown may…”
Her words petered off given her realization of the company they were in. Georgiana looked to her brother before diverting, “Don’t worry about a commission. If I can’t make it, then I know a number of people who would leap over one another to make the future Mrs. Bingley’s wedding gown. It can be my gift to you.”
The Bennets stared at her, the both of them uttering together, “You can make a gown?” and “You make it?”
Georgiana laughed, “I made a replica of mama’s wedding dress, did I not, William?”
The man in question crooned, “I recall it not being wearable.”
“Well yes, I made a small version. A test, if you will, that utilized less fabric and was entirely useless. But depending on the style you want, Jane, I can refer you to the right source. Please do dismiss my ego; I will be the first to admit my lack of skill, depending on the style or fabric.”
James reached up to feel the branches of dangling succulents while Jane replied, “Thank you, my lady, but I haven’t any desire to wear something from a great house of London or Parisian fashion. I rather don’t want attention drawn to the wedding, if I’m being understood?”
“Perfectly,” her ladyship assured. “Anyhow, so often the first choice is whether you want something magnificent and totally unbearable, or sacrifice finery for comfort. Since the ceremony will be in your own home, you’re quite at liberty to wear whatever you want.”
James peeked back at Charles’ having slipped through a gap in the tables to touch Jane’s waist. “What do you want me to wear, love?”
“What do you want to wear?” she returned while James strode ahead to meet William at the end of the aisles.
Charles lifted a shrug while his ears blushed scarlet. “Oh, ehm, you know, I was thinking of having a new jacket made. I’d…well, I’d like to have a special lining inside it. Maybe a fabric from your dress? You know…something to wear throughout the years when I need a little pick-me-up or so.”
Jane’s head tilted with her smile and glittering eyes. She gave his belly a nudge. “It’s endearing that you expect to fit into it for so long.”
Charles looked as if the floor had dropped from under him. “Do you expect me to get fat?”
“I do hope so. You can always tell the happy newlyweds by a little chubbiness,” Jane giggled, strolling along with him close behind her.
With the affianced preoccupied, William asked James, “What are you thinking?”
“Vines,” he uttered with his eyes on the abundance therein. “Lots of vines. They will last for a long while once sheered. Anything goes well with vines—whatever flowers Jane wants.”
“Colours, Lizzy,” Charlotte met them with a leaf twirling between her fingers. “Let’s not become overwhelmed. I forced you to settle upon three, remember? You used ivy for mine, perhaps Jane would like something different?”
James’ eyes were everywhere in the room until William’s hand brushed his. “Decide upon nothing for now. This is only our first stop.”
The second location proved larger, and specialized in foreign and aromatic inventory. Charles’ hand flew up to his face the moment they passed through the doors. “Oh my…that’s a lot to take in.”
Their heads turned to the gentleman overseeing the place and how he fiddled with the netting piled atop his wide hat. “My lord, I would suggest that anybody with an aversion to bees or butterflies remain outside. If one lands on you, just ignore her and she’ll move along shortly. Good day, Mrs. Collins, how is your father?”
Charlotte perked up while muttering, “So this is where papa’s bees get fat… I am well, thank you!”
William gathered Jane’s attention to say, “This will likely be the opportune place to get flowers. They’re further in.”
More so free from the cloud of herbs and pollinator attractants, they were able to peruse a mosaic of colour and texture. James was overlapping different fronds and leaves over his shirtsleeve to gauge their aesthetic appeal when his sister appeared beside him.
“I think soft warm tones and green will be my colours.”
“You’ve settled on the pink in the dress, then?”
Their heads turned to Georgiana chiming, “Pink? How fun!”
Jane smiled and clarified, “I don’t want something…cool toned. I want something pink, perhaps even a discrete orange, blushing through layers of white.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened as she wiggled with glee. “I know exactly what you mean! Oh Jane, that will look beautiful on you!”
Charles intervened, “Please don’t forget about me. I shan’t be trusted to dress myself.”
James and Jane guffawed, therein garnering the attention of the floriculturists and bee attendants around the room. Mirth quickly faded and they went back to their tasks, but not without Jane murmuring, “Gracious, that hasn’t happened since we were children.”
Charlotte chuckled, “It is a testament to a person’s kindness when they have no idea how frequently they turn the heads in a room. Handsome people are obnoxious.”
Jane laughed nervously. “Be kind, we can hardly help it. And I’m getting married! Everyone is beautiful when they’re in love.”
However Charlotte rubbed her back in passing. “Do remain oblivious, dearest Jane. The rest of us will succumb to your charm with as much grace as we’ve ever been able to muster. Mr. Bingley, I do hope you are prepared to forever live with the Bennet spell cast upon your company.”
Charles’ features splashed with a foolish grin. “I’m exalted!”
James’ soft smile turned to William. “Have you a notebook I may borrow?”
“Of course,” he replied, withdrawing a small leather book as soft as buttery silk.
James felt as if he might have swallowed something without chewing. “I meant…are you comfortable with pages being torn out of this?”
William’s expression softened. “I am perpetually gifted with more notebooks than I ever need. I have three more to replace this one in my trunk alone, I assure you.”
James reluctantly accepted it with the comment, “I think it’s your reputation for not writing a letter that is less than two pages. Thank you.”
William observed his removal of a twine-wrapped bundle from a jacket pocket. Setting the pages bearing his, Jane, and Charlotte’s notes on an unoccupied table, he began marking Jane’s preferences in the notebook. Using the side of a charcoal piece to capture the impressions of leaves on the pages, James also used what little paper he had brought to absorb the moisture pressed from the foliage inside the book. He sketched flowers that could not be flattened within, and accepted whatever long-stemmed samples the floriculturists were willing to part with. The slim volume rapidly expanded into a fluffy block of white and green, with various blossoms sticking up like page markers.
William did not realize he wore a gentler version of Charles’ glee until Georgiana nudged his side. “Your happiness is showing. It is most unseemly.”
His head turned to his sister, eyes blinking as if to push a dream away. Matching eyes held his above a teasing, reassuring smile. Her brother’s lips parted, but their location was not a place to speak freely. He swallowed his words while she moved passed him with the summons, “James, may I have your arm? I fear we may be done for the day without another journal you may fill. And Jane, I have a number of magazines for Kitty which I think you could make great use of.”
The party adjourned to Longbourn, where they discovered Mr. Collins’ having come round to make pleasantries. Mr. Bennet followed behind him as he came through the vestibule to greet Lord Darcy first. Bowing deeply, he declared, “My lord, a humbling honour to be acquainted again. I trust your health is good with so much transport?”
“Quite well, thank you.”
Mr. Bennet spared him by intercepting, “We have just been listening to the comparisons between Longbourn and Lucas Lodge. I am now intimately acquainted with the hour’s worth of them.”
Charlotte sent a stubborn yet silent apology to him, which he waved aside with a kind smile. Mr. Collins, meanwhile, spent a long moment scrutinizing Georgiana until his gaze widened and he bowed parallel with the floor. “Your ladyship! My patroness speaks to great lengths of your accomplishments!”
“Oh…ehm…” she petered off with a glance at William. “You’re too kind.”
The man rose with deep nods. “Humble and courteous, just as she said. Lady Catherine assures all in her company that her niece is the epitome of feminine grace and all that the softer sex ought to strive for—”
“So, dinner?” James coughed. “The Darcies have been ever so kind to sponsor our excursions, but we have kept them from their own errands long enough.”
Charlotte picked up with enthusiasm, “Indeed! I’m sure Mr. Collins and I would love to remain for an early dinner. Thank you, my lord and lady, for lending us your carriage and company. We wish you a pleasant afternoon.”
Mr. Collins stood to his full, barrel-chested height. “Most generous to see my wife and extended family back to their very doorstep! I shall take it upon myself to inform your aunt of your impeccable grace and courtesy. Good afternoon!”
William nodded with his customary stoicism while Georgiana stood glassy-eyed until they synchronously peered at James twirling his finger in the air behind Mr. Collins’ head. Kitchen, he mouthed.
Georgiana bobbed a brief curtsy before taking her brother’s arm to follow him outside. She simply observed his telling the carriage driver to return to Netherfield before he led her around the house. A thick, battened door, hatched with iron opened for them and James and Kitty waved them inside.
“I’m so sorry about him!” Kitty whispered, taking her ladyship’s hands to draw her close to the low burning fire. “He’s not the worst company, but all he ever wants to discuss is Lady Catherine and boring poetry or psalms.”
“It’s all right,” Georgiana giggled quietly. “This secrecy is fun! This is your kitchen? It’s so much…”
While her eyes perused the room—its high ceiling and thick beams, to the herbal clutter on the countertops and the bundles hanging before the window to dry—Kitty gasped at their clasped hands and exclaimed, “I’m so sorry! Oh my god—the kitchen! Lizzy!”
“I like it!” Georgiana hastened, holding her now empty hands to her chest. “It’s smaller than ours, to be sure, but yours feels just like a...almost like sitting room. Like there are meant to be people here. I feel very comfortable. What is that divine smell?”
Kitty’s pale face contrasted against her ruddy cheeks as Georgiana introduced herself to Mr. Hill and helped herself to peeking inside a pot. “An honour, your ladyship. I overheard that you’re officially not here, but if you were I’d inquire how you like your tea?”
“I haven’t a preference!”
Her eyes gleamed as she watched him pull a wedge of lemon from a slice so the small triangle floated with a lavender frond in a steaming cup. “Something for you, Lord Darcy?”
“Thank you, no.”
James apologized, “I’m sorry we interrupted you, Hill. I thought a better sendoff without strict social obligations would be available here.”
“Not to worry. I’ve reached the point in cooking where all there is left to do, is wait. I will return to my own home to help Mrs. Hill. Good day, everyone.”
Georgiana sipped her tea from the seat James arranged for her at the island counter. “I think I’ve misunderstood something. Who is he?”
“A friend who helps us,” Kitty replied, now taking her turn to spoon the stew out of the pot for a taste.
James elaborated, “A friend of our father’s who lives nearby. He and his wife are without children, but are the types who enjoy being busy. My father distinctly enjoys not having anything to do in the slightest.”
William shared his sister’s mirth while James poured water with lemon and rosemary into a mason jar before taking a long gulp and placing it close enough for William to reach. He accepted.
* * * * * * *
“I’m glad you brought me here. They’re a wonderful family.”
William nodded while they tread over the dried earth and grass growing over the path to Netherfield. He craned his head to stretch his neck and inhale the green aromas around them. Broken pieces of light dusted his face through the leaves.
“It brings me relief that you think so.”
“Could you hold these?”
He looked down at her gloves, which he pocketed as she held her skirts. “I should have asked you first if you were comfortable with the walk back.”
“I wore the right shoes. Mrs. Reynolds would be most displeased if I ruined any slippers.”
Squirrels moved above their heads and birds conversed in the distance. Georgiana smiled, “I like how busy it is here…in a completely different, calm way. I hope you will let me visit after Charles and Jane are settled.”
“I daresay that is for Charles and Jane to allow, but I think they would. Between Longbourn, Meryton, and even Lucas Lodge, you would have friends in all directions.”
“Thank you for putting it within the context of my boredom instead of my safety.”
They navigated under broken sections of canopy; splashes of light gleamed in her blond hair and ignited the subtle auburn in his dark tresses.
“I do not wish to oppress you, but such considerations are my obligation and desire.”
“I know,” she sighed. They reached a more level length of road so she let her skirts hang freely. “To be honest, I cannot complain when, not only have you finally made proper friends, but you’ve integrated me among them. I feel like teasing you for not purchasing Netherfield for yourself.”
William removed his jacket to drape on his arm. His hand combed through the hair resting on his neck. “From the beginning, Charles was in want of a family estate. It would be an illogical abuse of my privilege to take it from him—”
“You know what I mean.”
The air vanished from his lungs, inducing him to take a moment before he uttered gently, “James. I suppose I am hardly good at hiding it.”
Georgiana hummed a sound of contemplation. “Perhaps to the ignorant or the foolish, but not to me. You look at James the same way Charles looks at Jane: as if they might be the ones who polish the stars. Neither of you is ashamed in your wonder for the other person.”
A smile twitched on William’s lips, his voice deep in his throat. “Charles and I have learned a lot from them. Mostly we’ve learned how to be ourselves.”
“I think I understand,” Georgiana ruminated, and then rushed, “I feel this way with Kitty. Comfortable and yet such a novice to my own life.”
“Hm,” William acknowledged before he abruptly turned to her. “Wait—pardon?”
“What?” she returned. Their pace came to a clumsy halt. “You can be in love but I can’t?”
“Love?” His eyes widened and then wandered up to the squirrels as if they might drop an explanation at his feet. “This conversation has gotten away from me.”
“What are you saying? That you can love James but I can’t love Kitty?”
“That isn’t what I’ve said at all.”
“Your confusion says it well enough.”
Her brother’s eyes darted to the hands on her hips. “Your shyness seems to be dissipating. I’m far more ready for this than I am for you to have a lover.”
Georgiana absorbed that and let a pleased smile warm her features. “Kitty says whatever is on her mind. I like that. There’s complete transparency with her. She isn’t foolish or cowardly, but entirely herself.”
William let his steps wander in a casual zigzag stride. “She is someone with a kind and sweet disposition, I agree. She is certainly bullheaded like a Bennet. And you’re certain you love her? After so few interactions?”
She looked up at him. “When did you know you loved James?”
William felt his lungs ache once more. “I cannot fix upon the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words which laid the foundation. It was too long ago…I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”
“But if you had to ascertain all these things, then when?” she pushed.
“What does this have to do with you and Kitty?”
“Nothing at all. Merely to satisfy my own curiosity,” she grinned.
* * * * * * *
“Jane, dear, what are you wearing to dinner tomorrow evening?”
“I thought one of my white, summer dresses,” she replied from her place beside the bed. James sat at the vanity table, hunched over his notes and drawings while his sister folded laundry.
Their mother tapped a mindless rhythm on their doorframe. “Hmm…if it were just Charles, I might’ve done the same, but with the Darcies and Lady de Bourgh being present…”
“It isn’t a ball, and it is hardly more than a family dinner,” Jane reassured. “Why don’t you wear your ostrich feather in your hair? Never mind the dress.”
The fingertips moved to Mrs. Bennet’s lips. “A touch of finery? I think that will do. Lizzy?”
“Mm?”
Both women focused on the grunting figure with his back to them. “Charles’s dinner,” Jane reminded.
“Mmhm.”
“I expect chicken with a garnish of duck feathers and duck-trotter stew.”
“Ducks don’t have trotters.”
Jane sighed, “You were always talented at paying attention at the right moments. What are you wearing tomorrow?”
“What do you mean? I only have two nice jackets.” James pushed the wooden hair stick he had fashioned with a pen nib behind his ear.
“You’re going to drip ink all over that shirt, and stain your ear black again,” Mrs. Bennet whined.
“What I lack in dinner jackets I make up for in shirts. Jane are these your final notes on your dress?”
Their mother’s steps meandered down the corridor while Jane met him at the table. “I think so. That is, until we are in London. I’m eager for our aunt’s recommendations; she always gives us stylish things. I can’t think how any change in my gown would alter the decorations, though.”
James opened the notebook which was as good as his now. He had rejuvenated the blossoms in a jar of water, but he had added quickly sketched recreations of drawings Jane had selected from Georgiana’s French booklets. One of her hands touched the scratched lines of an older hooped skirt fashion. “I don’t like this one.”
“You said you liked the sleeves.”
“I do, but what’s that to do with ferns and vines?”
James finally rotated to look up at her. “Do you want ferns?”
“What do you mean? Netherfield has plenty already.”
“But do you want ferns?”
Jane quickly weighed how best to answer. “I like the ferns, but the entire house needn’t have two around each door. All that need to be decorated is the back garden and whatever room Charles wants to dine in afterwards.”
James’ mouth hung open. “Back garden… Do you want a trellis?”
“For what?” she uttered, feeling quite like she were running far too slowly behind him.
“The lake is in view but there’s really no furniture in place to mark where a ceremony might happen.”
It became Jane’s turn to stare at nothing while she contemplated. “I hadn’t thought that far. I like the idea of a trellis, but…do you suppose Hill might have the wood and tools to make one?”
“We have old trellis bits from bean crops,” he said while writing. “They’ll need to be sanded and painted, but they’ll—unless you want one of those rounded ones—”
“No! A flat top is adequate,” she rushed. “Please, Lizzy, as lovely as I want it to be, I want a curt ceremony so everyone may adjourn to food and talk. Do not plan upon hours of preparation when people will stand around for only a short while.”
James began to stand from the table whilst gathering his notes and capping his ink bottle. “What are you doing?”
“Eating in the kitchen.”
“Oh Lizzy, you need to sleep tonight. Tomorrow—”
“I will wake up bright and early in the afternoon and be ready for dinner,” he finished as a drop of ink slid down the hinge of his jaw.
James strolled from the room while Jane called, “Do take care what insects you invite into my home with whatever plants you insist upon having—”
“Jane!” Kitty’s hosiery slid her into view the same moment James startled, “KITTY!”
“Well, move!”
James huffed his way down the stairs while Kitty consumed Jane in partially made dresses and unnamable fabrics full of pins. “Kitty, what is all this?”
She could only dump the pile onto the bed as her sister explained, “I have an entire wardrobe of unfinished things Lydia wanted. You’re not as tall, but it is easier to cut than to add. Lydia may be inconsiderate and reckless, but she has fine taste.”
She began laying things flat on the bed while Jane sputtered, “Thank you, but I can’t say for certain what I may use until I’ve returned from London—what kind of sleeves are these?”
Jane held up a dress with the bodice shaped like a deep V with draping layers of sheer fabric to establish modesty, but also provide the illusion of an open back.
Kitty flushed as she held it up. “Oh—um. That’s something I was…it’s just a costume sort of thing—”
“It’s beautiful,” Jane purred while holding out the long sleeves which overlapped at the shoulder like flower petals, but fell freely around the arm.
“It’s indecorous,” Kitty pulled on a stray curl growing from her nape.
“Is it?” Jane wondered as she held it over herself. “It is not unlike the other dresses you’ve made for me. As Lizzy says, it’s something out of antiquity.”
“We need to be a bit more clothed,” Kitty grumbled.
“The peach layer I want would go beautifully under this… Would you mind if I took this to London?”
Kitty appeared caught between embarrassment and compliment. “Really? Can I pin it to your measurements first?”
While the ladies worked on the gown, the afternoon descended into a warm evening. Being a more conventional day, and with such an evening planned for the morrow, the household was free to sup as they liked. Mrs. Bennet chortled with Kitty and Mary in the sitting room over roasted fruit and bread. Mr. Bennet took his meal in his library before finding Jane in his path to return his dishes to the kitchen.
Reading her from behind, he drew quietly beside her and followed her gaze through the corridor to James at the island counter. Mr. Bennet peeked out through the windows at the orange sky over a blue land. “It is a lovely evening.”
Neither Jane, nor her brother looked up. Their father leaned forward until Jane’s locked gaze pulled toward him. “Hm? What?”
“Busy evening,” he crooned.
Jane withdrew her weight from the wall and adjusted her posture during her sigh. “Lizzy’s being…well, Lizzy.”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, but…papa, you know how he traps himself in his own head. He’s obsessed with this wedding—”
Her tawny brows furrowed in the wake of her father’s mirth. “I certainly partook in crafting unconventional women. Lydia rode full tilt into marriage, while you seem distinctly lacking in nerves or trepidation.”
Jane pivoted the better to face him. “Why should I be nervous?”
“I don’t think you should at all. Love grants us immense bravery when we are foolish and confidence when we are genuine, but it is a natural thing to feel several things at once on the eve of such a union. Why not let Jamie shoulder what most brides do, alone? After the runaround you had in courting Mr. Bingley, perhaps he seeks to eliminate other exhaustive undertakings for you.”
Jane had crossed her arms and now shifted restlessly. “It doesn’t seem right. Nobody really asked him to do this for me. I don’t want him to be so consumed by my own affairs anymore—can’t you pull him out of it?”
Mr. Bennet looked up from his eating a left over morsel of pie as if a reverie had been disturbed. “Hm? Oh no, I’ve quite finished with controlling my heedless spawn.”
“Papa,” she chided.
“Jane,” he smiled back, “my methods are fruitless and tiresome. You are to be the lady of Netherfield. I’m sure your methods will be far more lucrative than this old goat’s.”
She mutely watched him descend into the kitchen, wash and dry his plates, and brush a hand over James’ hair on his way out.
“Papa, I’m going to Netherfield.”
“Don’t send me first to announce your arrival.”
A smile cracked on her face as she lifted her braid and pinned it into a bun. He observed her going into Mary’s domain and sifting through notebooks stacked on the piano. “Charles will be most puzzled.”
“Hush,” she swatted him in passing. “Expect his lordship in my stead!”
“I will expect nobody but I may leave the kitchen unlocked,” he countered.
* * * * * * *
“Miss Bennet, sir.”
“Jane?” Charles exclaimed, popping up from the table. Behind him, William, Georgiana, and Anne stood in greeting and inquiry.
“Is everything all right?” Anne asked.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” Jane curtsied to them, “but may I borrow my fiancé and Lord Darcy?”
The ladies could only watch as Charles guided her from the room with William in tow. “It’s late—has something happened to thwart dinner tomorrow?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I’m here to plan.”
Charles frowned while William voiced, “The wedding?”
Jane huffed something like a tired laugh and smiled apologetically. “Can I implore you to visit my brother? He’s currently working himself to death in the kitchen. It occurred to me that I ought to know what I want and where to put it. I think Lizzy will fare better if I am able to order him about instead of him running himself in circles.”
“What would you have me do?” William asked.
“Whatever you want, really. Distract him, talk with him, have him cook you something. Get him away from his library of notes. The kitchen door should be open for you.” She held her notebook tighter to her chest. “It’s time I stop being lazy about my own wedding. Charles, I suggest you remove your jacket; it’s a warm night. Lady Anne, I’ve heard wonders regarding your mother’s taste in interior design; I can’t but think you might share a good, albeit more modern palate. Might I have your opinion on some things?”
The ladies, no longer secretly listening from the room, emerged to follow her and Charles through the house. The butler, meanwhile, asked William, “Shall your horse be readied, my lord?”
“I can do it faster than waiting,” he replied, already striding in the opposite direction.
Jane’s horse was being situated in the stables and spoilt with half an apple when William jolted the stable hands to attention. “As you were,” he ordered before pausing as he grasped his bridle. “Would you put one of those in my saddle bag?”
His steed made gruff complaints as he galloped from Netherfield, but the journey was a short expense for the apple he feasted upon as William left Longbourn’s modest barn. He saw the soft glow of candlelight through the windows when he knocked on the kitchen door. James peered up as he let himself in; entering the dreamlike glow of multiple short candles resting in glass cups and jars.
“What are you doing here?”
William situated a chair for himself and rested his elbows adjacent to James’. “I’ve been sent to distract you from planning too efficiently.”
His gaze roamed the counter: the plate of half-eaten food, his notebook open to a spread of connected lines and lists, pages of sketched dress components that were replicated in candle holders or other decoration concepts…
William’s eyes lifted to James rubbing his own and heaving a heavy breath. “This will be the most important thing I do.”
William had a glimpse of those tired and wet eyes before he pulled James in for a line of kisses down his neck. James’ head found William’s shoulder, where it remained for a long moment of rest. When James pulled away, William took his hand, kissing over his thumb and along his wrist.
“There’s no point if you exhaust yourself beyond repair before the wedding. Jane cares more about her brother being there over any assortment of fabrics and flowers. Besides, anything here will be bested by a single day of your being an uncle,” he finished with a sweep over the counter.
James ruminated on that for a time. “All Jane’s ever wanted was a happy family. The wedding is the start of her achieving that.”
“With respect, I think the engagement solidified her happiness, and from what I’ve heard of that evening, all she required was the appropriate company. That being said, she is at Netherfield now, doing your work.”
James blinked over parted lips. “She is?”
William chuckled, “Exercising her role as Mrs. Bingley. She’s quite good. Being the eldest of five will work in her favour.”
Relief slowly eased James’s features. One of his hands drifted back to his plate. “Her best skills were always overshadowed by being too polite,” he said while munching on a piece of gravy-soaked crust.
William let his face rest in his hand while James finished eating…at least, until the latter’s head turned while pouring lemon juice and tea together. “Is your ear black?”