Later that evening when they had returned to Carlton House and the household had settled into its usual calm, Elizabeth sought Jane out. She found her cousin seated by the window, her embroidery abandoned, her expression thoughtful rather than distressed.
“You look as though you have been considering something very carefully,” Elizabeth said lightly as she took the chair opposite her.
Jane smiled a little shyly. “Perhaps I have.”
Elizabeth did not feign ignorance. “Bramley spoke with you today.”
Jane nodded. “He did.”
“And?”
Jane met her gaze directly. “He asked me to marry him.”
Elizabeth felt the warmth spread through her chest at Jane’s steady tone. “And you asked for time.”
“Yes.”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before asking the question she knew must be answered honestly. “Do you like him, Jane? Or are you merely grateful for his kindness?”
Jane’s reply was immediate. “I like him.”
Elizabeth searched her cousin’s face, finding no trace of uncertainty there. “Truly?”
“Truly,” Jane said. “I am very pleased with him. There is no doubt that in marrying the viscount, I shall experience real felicity.”
Elizabeth smiled then, the last of her lingering concern easing. “That is no small thing.”
Jane’s expression softened. “It is not. I do not yet love him, but I believe I could. And I think he understands that affection grows best when it is not forced.”
Elizabeth reached across the small table and took Jane’s hand. “If it feels right to you, then you should accept his proposal. Not because it is sensible, nor because it is expected, but because it offers you peace.”
Jane squeezed her hand in return. “I believe it does. I believe I am resolved to accept him.”
Elizabeth felt a surge of happiness so keen it nearly brought tears to her eyes. “I am very glad,” she said softly. “You deserve someone who will meet your constancy with his own.”
Jane smiled, a true, unguarded smile that Elizabeth had not seen in some time. “I think I may be fortunate at last.” They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, the fire casting gentle shadows across the room.
As Elizabeth retired that evening, her thoughts returned again and again to the quiet declarations she had witnessed—Jane’s courage, Bramley’s patience, the promise of something steady and earned rather than seized.How strange,she thought,that certainty should arrive so quietly, while uncertainty makes such a clamor.
She did not know what her own future would demand of her, nor how much choice she would be permitted to exercise in it. But as she lay awake in the dark, listening to the distant sounds of the house settling around her, Elizabeth found comfort in one simple truth: at least one heart she loved had found its way toward something worthy.
The following morning brought with it one of those clear, pale days that seemed designed to invite reflection. Spring had not yet committed itself fully, but there was promise in the air. The earliest signs were there—leaf buds struggling to unfurl, a softness to the light, a gentleness to the breeze that suggested renewal was possible, if one were brave enough to accept it.
Lady Hertford’s drawing room was already arranged for callers when Viscount Bramley arrived, punctual and composed, with Fitzwilliam Darcy at his side. Elizabeth observed them from her place near the window, her awareness sharpening at once. Darcy’s presence had that effect upon her now, unwelcome or not. She had grown accustomed to the quiet shift within herself when he entered a room—the faint tightening in her chest, the instinctive attention she could not quite suppress.
Lady Hertford greeted the gentlemen with her usual gracious efficiency. After the necessary civilities, Bramley turned immediately to Jane.
“Miss Bennet,” he said, offering his arm without flourish, “the morning is too fine to be wasted indoors. Will you honor me with a walk?”
Jane’s acceptance was immediate and unselfconscious. She placed her hand upon his sleeve with a calm assurance that spoke volumes, though she said little more than, “I should like that very much.”
Elizabeth felt a swell of emotion she could only name as relief. Jane’s choice was subtle, but it was unmistakable. There was no hesitation, no glance toward Elizabeth for reassurance. She stepped forward with Bramley as though the matter had already been settled within her heart.
Lady Hertford smiled faintly, her approval evident. “Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy will attend you as well.”
Elizabeth rose, smoothing her gloves with hands that suddenly felt unsteady.
They followed the other couple into the street, Jones and Weston at a respectful distance behind. Bramley and Jane moved ahead at once, their heads inclined toward one another, their conversation low and easy. Elizabeth watched them go with a mixture of happiness and wistfulness.
