After her conversation with Georgiana this afternoon, there was nothing thatsurprisedher, though there were added details that she had not anticipated.
The end of the letter put Elizabeth in a rather better mood with Mr. Darcy. She at once reread his description of his actions on the night of the Netherfield ball with a less prejudiced air.
Charlotte had repeatedly suggested to Elizabeth that Jane ought to show more emotion. Had she not said, “If she wishes to catch him, she ought to show more than she feels?” — but Darcy ought not have interfered in his friend’s life in such a way. Who was he to decide how Jane felt?
After having had nothing for lunch, except the melted chocolate and some biscuits, Elizabeth found herself ravenous when dinner was announced. Georgiana asked as they ate if the letter had given her an explanation for Darcy’s behavior.
“It seems,” Elizabeth said, “that he was wholly convinced that my sister was indifferent to Mr. Bingley because she did not smile at him warmly enough while he watched.”
Georgiana nodded seriously as she worked on her pea soup. “And he wished to protect Mr. Bingley from a marriage with unequal affections, even though it was to your sister?”
“It was not any business of his who Mr. Bingley marries.”
“Oh, but Fitzwilliam is always like that, trying to help and care for people when he thinks he may help, even if he does not have a duty to do so.”
Elizabeth grimaced.
“Oh, but it wasyoursister who was hurt! He should have asked you. You could have told him that she loved Mr. Bingley.”
Unexpectedly to both of them Elizabeth laughed. “He certainly should have asked me.”
At the time, asking her would have been the last thing on Darcy’s mind. Still, heshouldhave.
Before falling asleep, Elizabeth read the letter yet again.
And the next morning, she read it for a fourth time.
It was only then that she began to reach an emotional equipoise.
She was of course very ill once more the next morning.
Counting up the days, her monthlies were at least four weeks late.
And she missed Mr. Darcy. She considered sending him a letter to inform him about the likely delicacy of her condition, but it was still early to do so, and she wished to tell him in person.
Elizabeth busied herself with the daily tasks of the estate, planning menus with Mrs. Reynolds, preparing events for the wives of the tenants, making calls on the families around the neighborhood, offering money from her own funds to help repair a house that had been partially burned down during drunken revelries on Christmas day, preparing relief baskets for the poor of the community.
She also took long walks with Georgiana, where they talked about everything — except of course Wickham.
She became friends with two of the carriage dogs, and one of the hunting hounds.
Mostly she waited.
And then she received a wholly unexpected letter.
It was brought into the breakfast room on a silver platter. A letter from her father, Mr. Bennet.
Elizabeth stared at it long enough that Georgiana asked ifanything was the matter.
She imagined that her face would not have been more foreboding if it had been a black envelope announcing a death.
Her father.
What could he have to say to her?
She opened it up.
Dearest Lizzy,
