Charlotte turned away, her stare glassy and unseeing as her hands drifted to the wall to guide her around the corners of the hallway.
Elizabeth’s heart broke at the sight of Charlotte’s defeated expression. She followed behind. “Charlotte, you deserve so much better. I should never have brokered hope when it was not mine to offer. I just wanted to help you find security and happiness.”
Charlotte’s weak smile wavered, and she shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “Lizzy, it is not your fault. I allowed myself to think I might have a chance, and now… now it feels like a cruel joke.”
Elizabeth’s chest tightened with guilt. “I feel terrible for pressuring you. I thought—”
“You thought Mr Collins might see sense,” Charlotte interrupted. “But he’s chosen Mary. Mary, of all people! How could he...”
Elizabeth swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “I am so sorry. I only wanted you to have the happiness you deserve.”
Charlotte’s tears spilled over, and she wiped them away angrily. “And what do I deserve, Lizzy? A life of being overlooked? Passed over for someone younger, prettier, more agreeable? Heavens, Mary is no prettier or livelier than I am! And I do not even deserve fair consideration there!”
Elizabeth reached out, taking Charlotte’s hands in hers. “No, you deserve to be loved for who you are. You are intelligent, kind, capable... any man would be lucky to have you.”
Charlotte pulled her hands back, her expression a mixture of hurt and resignation. “But that is not the world we live in, is it? We have to be practical. We have to make dowith what we can get.”
“I hate that you feel this way,” Elizabeth said, her voice cracking. “I hate that I could not do more to help you.”
Charlotte’s shoulders slumped, and she let out a weary sigh. “You have done more than anyone, Lizzy. But we cannot change the way things are. We just have to accept it.”
Elizabeth felt a surge of frustration and helplessness. “It is not fair. You deserve so much better than Mr Collins.”
“Fairness doesn’t come into it,” Charlotte replied quietly. “I should have known better than to let myself hope. You may as well go home now, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Charlotte held up a hand. “I am quite serious, Lizzy. Just go—let me alone.”
Elizabeth thinned her lips. “Very well.”
Elizabeth left Charlotte’s housewith a heavy heart. As she walked home, her head hung low, and her thoughts churned with guilt and frustration. The bright afternoon sunlight seemed incongruous with her dark mood, each cheerful chirp of a bird feeling like a personal affront.
As she turned a corner, she encountered Lydia and Kitty, walking arm-in-arm along the road. Their laughter rang out, and they seemed utterly absorbed in some juvenile joke. The sight of their carefree mirth made Elizabeth’s heart ache even more. She wished she could share in their light-heartedness, but the events of the morning had left her too drained.
“Lizzy!” Lydia called out, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Where have you been? You look as if you’ve lost your last shilling.”
Kitty giggled, nudging Lydia. “She’s probably been off having another serious talk with Charlotte. You know, if you were not so serious all the time, perhaps Charlotte would smile more often.”
Elizabeth set her teeth into a grim line. “Where are you two going?”
Lydia skipped ahead, her curls bouncing. “We’re off to see Maria Lucas. Come with us, Lizzy! We have all sorts of news.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I was just at Lucas Lodge, and I mean to return home.”
Lydia pouted. “Oh, come now, Lizzy. You cannot be gloomy all the time. Have you not heard the latest?”
Elizabeth sighed, too tired to play along. “What news do you speak of, Lydia?”
“Oh, you will not credit it. At last, we shall be able to visit Netherfield without that grumpy Mr Darcy about!”
A chill ran through her. She stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding. “What do you mean?”
Lydia giggled again, clearly relishing the attention. “Mr Wickham and Mr Bingley came calling while you were out. They said that the ball was a smashing success. Everyone says Mama outdid herself, and not a thing was amiss, except that Mrs Long thought her nieces did not receive proper notice because she thinks Mama slighted them, but who cares about her? And Mrs Canterbury—you remember her, do you not? She said that Mrs Ellington said that—”
“Lydia, what is this about Mr Darcy?” she interrupted.
“Oh.” Lydia shrugged. “Mr Wickham says that Mr Darcy has returned to London suddenly.”
Elizabeth’s heart sank. Mr Darcy gone? Whatever for? Her thoughts stumbled, recalling their strained conversation, his pained expressions, and the odd intensity in his eyes. She had sensed a connection, a glimmer of understanding between them, and now he had left without a word.
