truly think he will be any more moved by Lady Elliot’s death than Sir Walter was?”
Darcy stopped in front of the Lion. “Let us find out.”
* * *
Although a bored attendant at the Lion confirmed that Mr. William Elliot numbered among the inn’s guests, the gentleman was not at home—truly not at home—when Elizabeth and Darcy called. By this point nearly to their own cottage, they went home to check on Lily-Anne and Georgiana before making any additional attempt to locate the elusive Mr. Elliot.
Thankfully, they found all well with Georgiana and their daughter. Georgiana described how they and Sir Laurence had reached Broad Street and sent a surgeon back to the Cobb before the rain increased to an intensity that prevented them from continuing up the steep hill home. Their small party had taken refuge in a pastry shop, where they warmed themselves over tea and cake until the rain ceased and they could resume the walk to the cottage.
“As distressing as the circumstances were,” Georgiana said, “Sir Laurence was a reassuring presence. He knew just where to go and what to do, and took very good care of us. He was exceedingly attentive to both me and Lily-Anne, and our conversation in the pastry shop was so diverting that I felt guilty whenever I recalled that the two of you were dealing with such a dreadful situation while I enjoyed his company.”
“Pray, do not feel guilty any longer,” Elizabeth said. “I am glad one of us had a day that was not miserable.”
“Two of us,” Georgiana corrected. “Lily-Anne found Sir Laurence delightful, once she warmed up to him. He was so good with her, Elizabeth—it was charming to watch them together at the pastry shop. I think my niece is quite smitten.”
The animation in Georgiana’s eyes as she spoke of Sir Laurence made Elizabeth long to ask whether Lily-Anne’s aunt was smitten, as well, but she forbore. Georgiana’s regard for the baronet was evident; it was too early to quiz or tease her about its developing into something more.
Besides, Elizabeth was not in playful humor. Though happy that Georgiana and Lily-Anne had escaped the worst of the day’s events, she yet felt the weight of Lady Elliot’s untimely demise. Women died in childbed with tragic regularity, but Elizabeth could not help wondering whether she might have survived had she not also suffered a serious accident.
The company of her own child, however, helped lift Elizabeth’s mood. So, too, did a bath and fresh clothing. As her maid completed a simple arrangement of her hair, Elizabeth watched Lily-Anne play on the floor with her two favorite dolls. When the servant left the bedchamber, Elizabeth called Lily-Anne to her. Lily approached the dressing table, set her dolls upon it, and climbed into her mother’s lap. Elizabeth embraced her, saying not a word.
Lily asked to go for a walk. Elizabeth wished she could indulge her daughter immediately, but she and Darcy had agreed to make one more attempt to call upon Mr. Elliot. They also felt they ought to return to the Harvilles’ home. Upon reaching their lodgings, Darcy had sent a note advising them to expect Sir Walter or his emissary to call for the infant, but both he and Elizabeth wanted to take more formal leave of the generous couple as they ended their involvement in this whole unfortunate event.
“I am afraid a walk with me will have to wait, Lily. Do you want to play with Betsy and Maggie a while longer?”
Lily-Anne scooted off Elizabeth’s lap and reached for the pair of dolls on the dressing table. They were cloth dolls, gifts from Elizabeth’s sister Jane, and their appearance was proof that they were well loved. Privately, Elizabeth and Lily-Anne’s nurse referred to the dolls as Bald Betsy and Mangled Maggie. Once upon a time, Betsy had possessed red hair fashioned from yarn, but as Lily liked to carry her by it, most of the strands had disappeared. Maggie owed the preservation of her own hair to a
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