Darcy shook his head, the thoughts warring within him. Whatever her faults, Elizabeth had not deserved the coldness he had shown her in their final conversation. He had lashed out, his words as cutting as the betrayal he had felt. But beneath his anger lay something far more dangerous: longing. Even now, the memory of her voice, her smile, her presence lingered, a cruel reminder of what he had thought he might find with her.
As the carriage jolted slightly over a rough patch of road, Darcy opened his eyes, the countryside coming back into focus. Lincolnshire was still hours away, and beyond it, London waited. The thought of retreating to Pemberley, of immersing himself in the duties and routines that had once provided solace, felt hollow now. He could not imagine finding peace while the specter of Elizabeth Bennet haunted his every thought.
The carriage slowed briefly as the driver navigated a bend in the road. Darcy glanced out the window, his gaze settling on the distant horizon. The sky was overcast, the pale gray clouds heavy with the promise of snow. It matched his mood perfectly: bleak, unsettled, and cold.
He had thought Elizabeth Bennet was the one person who might see him as he truly was, who might look past the cold reserve and pride to find the man beneath. But he had been wrong. She had seen him, yes—but only as a challenge, a target, a game to be won. And now, that illusion lay shattered, leaving him with nothing but regret.
Darcy leaned back once more, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on him. Lincolnshire awaited, along with Georgiana. His sister would be glad of his company, he was sure, and her wellbeing was the one certainty he could cling to now. But even as he resolved to focus on her, to push Elizabeth from his mind, a single truth remained:
He had loved her. And the loss of that love, however undeserved, was a wound that would not easily heal.
“You look pale, Lizzy,”Jane said, crossing the room to sit beside her. “I thought you might like some company.”
Elizabeth shook her head faintly, her lips pressing into a tight line. “Thank you, Jane. I am not certain I am fit for company today.”
Jane tilted her head, studying Elizabeth with quiet concern. “I heard some news this morning,” she said softly. “Mr. Bingley mentioned that Mr. Darcy left Netherfield early—very early.”
Elizabeth’s head snapped up, her heart sinking at once. “He left?” she repeated, her voice sharper than she intended.
Jane nodded, her expression pained. “Yes. Mr. Bingley seemed surprised, but Mr. Darcy said he had pressing business in Lincolnshire. Something to do with collecting his sister?”
Elizabeth’s stomach twisted. Yes, his sister… Lincolnshire, then London. He had told her as much during supper, before everything had unraveled. Hearing it confirmed now, knowing that he was already gone, left her feeling hollow.
“I see,” Elizabeth said after a long pause, her voice subdued. She looked down at the stationery before her, her fingers tightening slightly around its edge. “So he is gone.”
Jane reached out to place a hand over Elizabeth’s, her touch warm and steady. “Lizzy, I know this must be difficult. But if you truly wish to make amends, perhaps it is not impossible.”
Elizabeth laughed softly, though the sound lacked humor. “And how, Jane, do you suggest I do that? Shall I wait for him to return to London and then stalk him there like some forlorn heroine from a dreadful novel? That would surely end well.”
“I only meant,” Jane said gently, “that we could visit our aunt and uncle in Cheapside. You have been saying for months how much you miss them. London is vast, yes, but it is not entirely out of the realm of possibility that—”
“That I might stumble across him in the street? Or knock on his door unannounced?” Elizabeth interrupted, shaking her head. “No, Jane. I have made enough of a fool of myself already. To chase him to London would be the height of folly.”
Jane’s expression softened further. “Perhaps it would not be folly if it came from the heart.”
Elizabeth met her sister’s gaze, her throat tightening. For a moment, the temptation of Jane’s words flickered within her. She imagined herself in London, somehow finding a way to cross paths with Darcy, to explain herself, to repair the damage she had done. But even as the thought formed, it crumbled under the weight of reality.
“No,” she said quietly. “I have hurt him too deeply. Even if I could find him, I doubt he would want to see me.”
Jane sighed, her hand still resting on Elizabeth’s. “You care for him, do you not?”
Elizabeth’s lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she looked away, her chest aching with the weight of feelings she had only begun to understand.
Rising abruptly, she moved toward the bookshelf that stood against the far wall. Her fingers brushed over the spines of her Shakespeare volumes, their worn edges familiar and comforting. She paused, pulling one from the shelf—a battered copy of Much Ado About Nothing—and held it for a moment, her thumb running along its cover.
“I suppose,” she said lightly, though her voice wavered, “if I cannot make amends with Mr. Darcy, I might as well settle my accounts with Charlotte.”
Jane looked puzzled. “Charlotte?”
Elizabeth forced a small smile, though it did not reach her eyes. “The wager. I lost, Jane. And Charlotte deserves her due.”
“You are being too harsh on yourself,” Jane said softly, rising to stand beside her. “Charlotte would not hold you to such a thing.”
“Perhaps not,” Elizabeth said, tucking the volume into a growing stack of books on the desk. “But I hold myself to it.” Her fingers hesitated over the next book before she added softly, “It is silly, but I find myself wondering what Mr. Darcy thinks of Shakespeare. But Charlotte certainly does not care for him.”
The admission stung, sharper than she expected. She pulled another volume from the shelf, her movements brisk as if to shake off the thought. “It is fitting, really,” she said after a moment, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Shakespeare understood tragedy all too well.”
Jane touched Elizabeth’s arm gently, her eyes filled with quiet understanding. “Lizzy, you are not as hopeless as you think. You still have time to set this right.”
