“Did you f—” Mrs. Bennet began, before breaking off in an exclamation of her own, to which she added, “No! Oh, my poor Kitty.”
Plucking up the small crystal bowl of strawberry preserves, Elizabeth frowned. “Poor Kitty?”
“Poor me?” Kitty reiterated from the parlor doorway, following Lydia into the room.
“Yes, poor you.” Mama shook her head. “You had such high hopes when it came to Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
Elizabeth set the jam down with a dull clunk. “Colonel Fitzwilliam?”
Jane raised stricken eyes from the paper. “He has become engaged to Caroline Bingley.”
Elizabeth’s mouth hinged open, and she could not seem to muster the wherewithal to close it. Indeed, her entire body felt immobile. Numb.
“Oh, what a terrible flirt the man is,” Kitty said, joining them at the table. “I truly thought, that last time he called, when you were not there to ruin things, Elizabeth, that he showed real interest.” She waved a hand in the general direction of one of the waiting footmen. “Tea, please. I require fortitude.”
“He spoke to me too.” Lydia went to the sideboard. “He was interested in me too.”
“No, he was interested in me,” Kitty countered. “Oh, Mama, why are men so cruel?”
Their words flowed over Elizabeth, hardly comprehensible. She managed to close her mouth, then swallowed against the pain in her throat.
“If Colonel Fitzwilliam is engaged to Miss Bingley, that means she will no longer occupy Mr. Darcy’s attention,” Kitty said suddenly. “He is not the son of an earl, but he is the more wealthy of the two.”
“Oh, clever girl,” Mrs. Bennet said happily. “Yes, you must win Mr. Darcy.”
“We do not even know if either gentleman will return,” Jane said softly.
Elizabeth looked away from her sister’s compassion-laden gaze, swallowing again.
“I do not see why you would want Mr. Darcy,” Lydia said as she returned to the table. “He is so pompous. He’s nearly as bad as Mr. Collins.”
Mention of their cousin earned a scowl from Mrs. Bennet.
Appearing not to notice, Lydia continued, “I want a redcoat. It is a shame so many of them went to London, but they must be returning soon. Half of the troop is still here.”
Lydia, Kitty, and Mrs. Bennet devolved into a discussion of who was more handsome, ranking men Elizabeth hadn’t yet met, called Chamberlayne, Denny, Carter, and Pratt, and disagreeing on the order.
Elizabeth stared down at her plate, her half-eaten breakfast suddenly nauseating. She focused on slow, even breaths. When she finally felt she could speak without casting up what she’d already eaten, she said, “I must fetch something from my room,” and left the table.
She kept her tattered calm pulled tight around her until she reached that sanctuary, then collapsed on her bed. Her shoulders heaved, sobs shaking her. The door opened and closed. Quiet footsteps crossed the room. A hand settled on her shoulder.
“I am so sorry,” Jane murmured.
Elizabeth’s heart sheared in two.
“Did you have an understanding with him?” Jane asked.
Shaking her head, Elizabeth sat up. She dashed at her eyes, but fresh tears replaced any she removed. “I should have believed her. Miss Bingley told me I had no hope of a future with him.”
“She did?” Jane asked, startled.
“They must have been colluding the entire time. P-playing some sort of game.” A cruel, horrible game, with both her and, Elizabeth suspected, Mr. Darcy’s hearts. She could see Miss Bingley delighting in such, but… “How could I have misjudged him so greatly?”
“I do not know.”
Elizabeth flopped back onto the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“What can I do?” Jane asked.
