After a few more minutes of conversation the two finished their discussion, and the blowing wind and unpromising looking clouds led them to return to the house. Elizabeth and Colonel Fitzwilliam shook hands and parted, and Elizabeth was sad to see him go.
Chapter Fifteen
In the week between Christmas and Sylvester, Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley were united in holy matrimony.
A light dusting of snow covered the churchyard.
Enough white to give the day a wintry charm, but not to make every step a trudge through deep drifts.
After the ceremony Bingley and Jane took the new carriage back to Longbourn for the wedding breakfast. It was a large well sprung vehicle with wheels that were almost as tall as Elizabeth and that had been burnished till they glowed. A fine liveried carriageman perched to the front drove it. Bingley had purchased the vehicle especially for the wedding.
Elizabeth went with the larger band of onlookers back from the parish on foot.
She soon arrived back at her home — year after year Longbourn seemed more truly her home than her memories of the big house next to a channel and near their mills in Manchester. The school had never felt likehome.
And now Jane was leaving, and she had lost Caroline.
At least she still had Papa.
Longbourn was a fine red brick building, tall, with lines of windows looking out in each direction. There was a big extension on the south side that Papa had built to make a larger library. The oak door at front was framed by two marble posts. Thick lines of smoke rose happily from all the chimneys. The air was crisp, but there was no breeze.
The merry band of well wishers pressed their way into her house, and there were enough of them to fill the place up to bursting.
Jane had been lovelier this morning than Elizabeth had ever seen her, the blond hair hanging in curls around her face, wrapped in a fine yellow silk dress that had been made specially for the occasion. Glowing red cheeks, besotted delight in blue eyes, and that graceful gaze, that longing, smiling, happy gaze as she’d looked into Charlie’s eyes.
Elizabeth hated that one of her emotions had been an intense pang of envy at her good luck and longing for the same happiness.
Charlie had been equally delighted and besotted as he admired his bride.
Elizabeth watched everyone go into Longbourn, and she pressed her blue kid gloves against her face.
Papa stepped out the door, and he called to her and she entered the house after him.
Elizabeth had heard no word from Caroline, placed as an unwanted jewel in the hoard of her dragon aunt Matilda. Perhaps this lack of a letter was because she would not forgive Elizabeth for her betrayal. Perhaps it was due to some delicate shame at her own actions. Or perhaps Matilda would not let her send a letter to anybody, even someone who had been so long a close connection as Elizabeth.
That would be very like the old woman.
No matter what the cause, her friend had not sent her a letter.
No accusation; no apology.
Not once in Elizabeth's life had she gone a full month without an exchange of conversation, in paper or person, with Caroline.
Her closest friend was missing, and her heart longed after her.
That evening, after Jane and Charlie had been feted, embraced by all, kissed by Mama a dozen dozen times, shaken hands with by Papa three times, toasted with speeches totaling almost an hour in duration, and sent off into that first,interestingand significant night of marital bliss, Elizabeth sat down at her little lady’s desk in the drawing room to write a letter to Caroline.
Maybe it wasn’t Caroline’s place to break this silence, and attempt to… converse again.
Elizabeth sat and scribbled out a very familiar, “Dearest Caroline”.
And then she got stuck.
A bit of nibbling on the end of the goose feather nub of her pen.
Why was this difficult? — Heavens! She’d refused an extremely eligible match for Caroline’s sake, from a man who had featured more in Elizabeth’s thoughts as the weeks passed, not less.
She had done no wrong!
