Elizabeth shook her head.
“Maybe it is not true,” Jane said suddenly, her expression eager. “I will ask Charles.”
Elizabeth couldn’t muster a reply to that. She had nothing to say. No words for the pain that filled her. Even if she did, she doubted she could squeeze them through a throat full of tears.
Jane wrung her hands. “Should I bring you tea?”
“Please, go,” Elizabeth managed to whisper, aware that Jane would not leave unless asked.
Indecision pinched Jane’s features. “I will make an excuse if Mama looks for you.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth mumbled.
“And I will ask Charles.”
Elizabeth turned her face away. She doubted Mr. Bingley had anything to say that she would care to hear.
Elizabeth remained in her room all morning, and did not go down for luncheon. Her mind ranged frantically over every moment with Fitzwilliam. Every interaction.
She could find no hint that she had been played for a fool. No clue that he cared for Miss Bingley. Only visions of those dark, tormented eyes. Of his hesitant sincerity.
His regard for her seemed so real.
Could his defection simply be about money? Had he learned of Miss Bingley’s twenty thousand pounds? Elizabeth imagined many a gentleman had been swayed by less.
But not Fitzwilliam. He did not seem like the sort of man to give up their growing regard for Miss Bingley’s dowry.
Yet…all evidence suggested he had.
Was this why he hadn’t found a way to say goodbye? Why he’d so readily raced north with no word of explanation except ‘business?’ Had he even gone north? Had he, he would have needed to arrange for the wedding announcement before departing. That meant he had already decided to marry Miss Bingley, and asked for her hand, before the arrival of the earl and Lady Catherine.
Miss Bingley had seemed oddly sad that morning. Did she, then, love Mr. Darcy, as Elizabeth believed, and regret agreeing to marry simply for rank and connections?
Everything was so confused. So convoluted. Nothing would settle in Elizabeth’s mind, and her heart knew only pain.
She must have dozed, for the click of the bedroom door opening woke her to salt-crusted eyes and wan afternoon light. Jane slipped in and came to stand beside the bed. She cleared her throat.
Hope a painful stab, Elizabeth sat up.
“I spoke with Charles.”
The disappointment in Jane’s voice told Elizabeth all she needed to know, but she couldn’t help asking, “What did he tell you?” The words came out cracked and raw.
“That it is true that Miss Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam are to be married.” Jane’s eyes were dark with pity. “I am sorry.”
“I see,” Elizabeth murmured, for what else could she say? No words could express the pain her sister’s confirmation evoked.
Jane dropped to sit on the side of the bed. “I asked him how Colonel Fitzwilliam could treat you so infamously, but he only shook his head. He said he did not want to get involved in the mess that Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had made, and that he hoped all would be clear when he returned from Scotland. I truly am sorry.”
Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed. How would his return help? She cleared her throat and managed to croak, “Thank you for asking.”
“I wish I had better news.”
Elizabeth nodded, not opening her eyes. It was very kind of her sister to attempt to help, but there was nothing Jane could do. All Elizabeth wanted was to be alone.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Though weary, Darcy was in a much more pleasant mood than the last time he’d journeyed from Scotland to Pemberley. He’d secured the second document acknowledging his sister’s union with Wickham, and now both were no more than ash. Georgiana would, certainly, need to reveal the truth to any serious suitor, but Darcy had high hopes that they had contained her folly well enough that she would be free to move in society. To be like any other young woman and meet a gentleman who cared enough for her to overlook such a serious error, rather than be shunned and be beset by desperate men who knew she had little choice if she wished to wed.
