The Eldest | F. Darcy

Chapter 13: The Language of Flowers

The next day arrived both too slowly and too quickly for Adele's liking. To make amends for her absence, she spent the morning visiting the tenants, ensuring their well-being. Though she knew their kindness toward her stemmed partly from her position as their master's daughter, she chose to believe it was also because they considered her family. She had spent much of her childhood playing with their children and listening to the stories of the wives, forming bonds that went beyond status.

Satisfied with her visits, she made her way back to Longbourn. As she walked, she hummed softly, closing her eyes to better savor the crisp air and the melodies of the birds. The cool breeze caressed her face, and her fingertips brushed against the delicate petals of the flowers she had planted—roses of every hue, chrysanthemums, lilies, sunflowers, and carnations, all thriving under her care.

She stilled for a moment, a strange feeling creeping over her. A presence lingered behind her—she was certain of it. Yet when she turned, she saw no one. Shaking her head at her own folly, she resumed her walk.

"Good morning, Miss Bennet," a deep voice murmured near her ear.

Adele gasped, whirling around. No one was there.

Her breath quickened. Had she imagined it? Was it mere exhaustion, or had her dreams of Darcy whispering greetings taken on an unsettling realism? Shaking off the unease, she hurried inside, eager for the sanctuary of her chamber.

She had nearly escaped when Mrs. Hill intercepted her.

"Miss Adele," the housekeeper said, "Mr. Bingley and his sisters have called."

Adele forced a composed nod. She quickly composed herself, joining the others in the drawing room alongside Elizabeth and Jane.

Mr. Bingley, ever the gentleman, stood and bowed. Adele returned the courtesy, as did her sisters. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst followed suit, their expressions carefully schooled into civility.

"Mr. Bingley," Adele said smoothly, "what brings you to Longbourn today?"

"Miss Adele, do you truly believe I need an excuse to visit my dearest sisters at heart?" he replied with a boyish smile. "However, today, I do come with a purpose—though I assure you, it is a pleasant one."

"Then do enlighten us, dear brother," she teased.

"We have come to extend an invitation to the Netherfield Ball next Tuesday."

Mrs. Bennet, Lydia, and Kitty squealed in delight. Adele, Mary, and Mr. Bennet, however, shared a look of mild distress. Elizabeth and Jane, as expected, were more reserved in their reactions.

Soon, all were seated. Adele took her place beside Bingley, Jane opposite them. The Bingley sisters, with well-practiced ease, directed their conversation solely toward Jane, pausing occasionally to ensnare Elizabeth in their discourse while ignoring Adele altogether.

It was only when Bingley leaned in slightly that Adele's attention was truly caught. His voice lowered to a near whisper.

"Miss Bennet, I have a message for you from our dear friend, Darcy."

Adele's breath hitched. She and Darcy were to meet the next day, yet he had not accompanied the party. A twinge of disappointment struck her, but she pushed it aside.

"I am all astonishment," she murmured. "What is the matter?"

"He sent a gift—a box, to be given to you discreetly," Bingley said with a knowing smile. "A peace offering, if you will. He wishes to make amends for lost time."

Adele's heart softened at the sentiment. She had long believed Darcy incapable of such gestures.

"How much do you know about us, Mr. Bingley?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.