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Charles laughed despite himself. “It was a very good horse.”
“You wished me to say so after I had advised you against buying it.”
“I wished you to admire it after it proved faster than yours.”
“Upon one occasion.”
Mr. Bennet looked from one to the other. “I see that I have arrived in the middle of an argument with an established history. I shall be careful not to supply an opinion before I know which gentleman has forgotten the most inconvenient particulars.”
Charles began to explain. He lost the thread before finishing, but Mr. Bennet asked one question about the horse which made it possible for him to begin again. Darcy allowed his friend to describe the occasion without disputing the advantage he claimed.
The interval did not last very long. For a few minutes, however, Charles could answer a question without first looking toward the door.
Later Mr. Bennet went upstairs to see whether Mrs. Bennet would come down for a little while. Darcy remained with Charles.
Chapter Fifty-Three
THE THREAD OPENED, and the cold remained.
Elizabeth watched the free end slip past her finger. She had made the turn correctly. Nothing caught upon her skin; nothing prevented her from laying the linen straight across her palm.
Yet the pressure against her left hand had not lessened. Jane moved beneath the coverlet, seeking an easier position, and Elizabeth felt the same draining chill where her fingers touched her sister’s wrist.
She had been too intent upon the thread.
“Lizzy?”
“Yes.”
“Will you move a little nearer?”
Elizabeth brought her chair forward. Mrs. Talbot stood at the other side of the bed, speaking quietly to Jane. Reynolds lifted a cushion while the midwife helped Jane settle against it. Elizabeth followed the movement with her left hand, resting her palm along Jane’s forearm when her wrist turned away.
“That is better,” Jane said.
Elizabeth could not tell whether she meant the cushion or her presence. She stayed where she was.
The linen lay across her lap. She gathered it into the small open turn again, taking care that the unused length remained within its folded scrap.
This time she called the warmth before moving the thread.
It came faintly. She knew the sensation well enough to distinguish it beneath the cold: a warmth beginning within her palm and passing toward Jane, requiring no effort to press harder upon her sister’s arm. Her fingers had been gripping too tightly. She eased them.
Jane sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.
Elizabeth looked down. The loop drew inward against her right fingers, although she had left it open. It was as Mara had described. The old binding opposed the work meant to protect the woman beneath her hand.
She whispered the words she knew.
“Loose the binding.”
Her voice scarcely rose above the rustle of the coverlet. Jane’s next pain had begun, and Mrs. Talbot was speaking to her. Neither turned toward Elizabeth.
The strand moved a little. Elizabeth followed it with her eyes, trying to see whether the opening had widened. The warmth faltered.
Immediately the thread pressed closer.
She caught the free end and pulled.
