The second consideration was an awareness that there might be some other person in the library, an awful creature who might even try to speak with her if she entered it.
No.
She did not wish to risk that.
Elizabeth hid herself in a little closet that the baronet who'd built Netherfield had put in place, in accord with the latest fashion so that servants could easily hide themselves away if one of the quality came through while they were cleaning the corridor. The entrance was hidden by a portrait, and there was a little eyehole hidden by a thin fabric that allowed the servant to watch to ensure that nobody was there.
She sat on the little seat inside the closet and wrapped her arms around her legs.
She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t.
Didshelove Darcy?
Especially now that she knew, beyond any doubt, that those serious dark eyes showed admiration when they gazed at her.
Perhaps it was simply gratitude that made her feel this rising twisting thing in her chest that begged her to go back, find him again, wrap her arms around him and kiss him.
At the very least she could easily come to love him.
It was impossible for her to ever know if she could have married him. She never could because of Caroline’s foolish, foolish infatuation — did Caroline not realize that Darcy was a man who might choose for himself?
Yet… heart sick as Elizabeth was, she could not betray Caroline.
There was a noise, and Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy come up the hallway, holding a note that he frowned at. He entered the library, leaving the door open behind him.
He’d looked… sad.
Elizabeth felt again that she could love him easily — that she already loved him.
Why? Why, Caroline?
It was just — Elizabeth knew her friend too well. She would be too angry to ever forgive her.
Not even if…
Caroline!
Caroline came up the corridor.
When she reached the open door to the library she stared at it.
Took two deep breaths.
There was a fixed expression on Caroline’s face, lips pressed together, pale shadows. Determination, like when she’d prepared at school for a particularly difficult task. The glittering candle caught her eyes. Elizabeth thought there was something in them that she’d never seen in her friend.
And then she stepped through the library door, went into the room, where Darcy still was, and she closed the door.
Elizabeth heard nothing, not the sound of voices, nothing.
She opened the servant’s door, and closing it stood next to the library door, filled with indecision and an eerie, anxious sense that something was wrong.
Maybe there was someone else already in the room, but it was quite improper for the two of them to be hidden in the library together during a ball. It could hurt their reputations if discovered.
Elizabeth decided she would join them.
But her hand paused on the cold brass door handle.
What if they had met here on purpose?
