“Mrs Finch, this is your home. You need not hide.”
“I was young, once upon a time. You are a sensible girl, who would not ruin your life over a man. And if you decided to regardless, who am I to interfere?”
Elizabeth shook her head at this bold opinion, but refrained from commenting on it. “As it so happens, I am not the only sensible one—Mr Darcy has decided, very sensibly, to marry me. You are the first to hear of it.”
To her credit, the elderly woman expressed her happiness for Elizabeth, despite its possible meaning for her, personally.
“I know you must have concerns about your own future,” Elizabeth added. “I shall ask Mr Darcy to arrange for you to remain in Fox Hollow, as its caretaker, for as long as you wish. If you can find a respectable person to share it with you, for your own safety, that would be ideal, I think. We shall see that food and coal are delivered from the main house regularly.”
“Oh!” Mrs Finch’s astonishment was clearly vast. “But you must not wish to…that is, I can hardly believe Mr Philips would continue to allow…”
“Longbourn belongs tomy brother,” Elizabeth declared with emphasis. “Neddy would like it to support a woman who has remained beside me all these months and who gossips not at all. Mr Darcy will see that Neddy’s wishes are realised.”
Tremulously, the older woman thanked her. They both startled at a rap on the door.
“My, but we are popular today,” Mrs Finch said before disappearing once again into her room.
Elizabeth opened the door to see Jane upon her step. She did not look quite her usual self; her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she had been crying. Despite this, she wore a smile and a determinedly sunny air.
“Lizzy,” she said. “I wonder…do you think there is room for two Bennet sisters at Fox Hollow?”
Thirty-Five
TO CONFESS THE TRUTH
“Jane! What has happened?” Elizabeth questioned, taking her sister’s hands in hers. They were icy. “You are cold. Come, sit by the fire, and I will build it up.” She led her to the hearth, seating her where she and Darcy had been so comfortably situated only an hour or so before. Once the fire was fortified, she took Jane’s hands again. “Tell me what is wrong.”
Jane gave a huff of laughter, but it sounded bitter and very unlike her usual placid tones. “Do you know, I have been trying to discover that very thing. ‘What is wrong with you?’, I ask myself, that Mr Bingley cannot make up his mind whether or not to pursue you? And I believe I have come upon an answer. I have always tried, very hard, to see good in everyone.”
“It is one of your most admirable traits,” Elizabeth assured.
“Do you think so? Well, perhaps it would be, if it were true charity that guided my motives. But it is not. No, what I want is peace at any cost; I want to avoid difficulties. I want alldecisions and outcomes to be easy. I have turned myself inside out, trying to escape what is directly before my eyes.”
“No one wants trouble, Jane,” Elizabeth tried to mollify her.
“No one wants it, but Lizzy, when you saw what our uncle did to Neddy, you faced it, you dealt with it. You did it by yourself. I told myself that because Neddy’s behaviour is sometimes annoying and often difficult, it was unrealistic to expect our aunt and uncle to feel the same way as we do about him. Neddy was barely three years old! I saw those bruises on his cheeks, and somehow found a way to excuse Uncle Philips, so that I could remain a ‘daughter of Longbourn’, so that I could stay safe and warm and untouched by scandal. I let you take all the trouble for Neddy’s safety and peace upon yourself.”
Elizabeth could not think of anything to say in reply. She had been disappointed in Jane’s lack of righteous anger…but not surprised. Jane had always been afraid of reproach.
“Mr Bingley has not come in four days now. It is the longest we have been separated…it feels like four years. This morning, Mama began complaining, wailing that I had lost him. And Mr Philips said no, I had done nothing wrong…that the reason Mr Bingley no longer visits is because of you, living out here practically alone and scandalising the neighbourhood. I knew it was a blatant falsehood meant to stir Mama up to the boughs about you having Neddy. I would have heard if you had been the subject of new and noisy rumour. Caroline would have said something, at the very least.”
“Thank you for defending me,” Elizabeth soothed.
“That is the problem,” Jane sobbed. “I said nothing. I sat there and allowed it, accepting that you would be defamed andyour character slandered, all because I was afraid of having their ugliness turned upon me. I cannot stand myself any longer. Why should Mr Bingley love me? I hate myself. I could not even bring myself to confront Mama or my uncle. After I packed my things, I wrote them a letter, a cowardly letter, saying they are all horribly behaved and that my father would be disgusted by them and that I thank the heavens he did not live to see how awful they are to his most beloved daughter and his cherished son. Mr Hill promised to have someone bring my trunk over, if you will have such a spineless, selfish sister as me to bear you company.”
“Oh, Jane,” Elizabeth said, torn between laughter and tenderness. “Come and wash your face—I brought in fresh water from the well this morning. I thank you for your support of me, by letter or otherwise. Everything will work out, I promise. I have much to tell you.”
Before she could say any more, however, there was a loud rap at the door. Elizabeth opened it, only to see the last person in the world she wanted. Henry Philips stood upon her step, looking both annoyed and pompous. His waistcoat, she noted, was pulled tight across a belly that was no longer kept in check by his apparel.
“I knew it was you who had a hand in influencing your sister to such shocking behaviour,” he snapped at Elizabeth, in lieu of a greeting. He pushed his way inside. “Jane Bennet, you have sent your mother to her sickbed. It was callous and insensitive. Come home at once and apologise, and when you have dried your mother’s tears, we will discuss what is to be done with thissituation. Your sister has stepped upon one too many toes, at last.”
“I-I will not apologise, not for anything,” Jane said, white-faced. “Elizabeth has done nothing wrong.”
“We will discuss it at home,” Mr Philips replied. “Come with me, now.”
“No. I will not.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You will do so, or I will push your mother to assert her rights and bring her son home. She is upset enough to agree, finally, and Goulding is in no position to stop us from his sickbed.”
