She hid her displeasure well, but Darcy noted the tightening of her jaw and the dimming of her eyes. The warmth that had animated her expression moments before receded, replaced by a careful reserve. He felt instantly remorseful, the sting of it sharp and deserved.
“What think you of books?” He knew she was well-read. Her education was obvious whenever they debated. It was a clumsy attempt at repair, offered too late and with too little grace.
“I cannot speak of books in a ballroom. No, that will not do at all.” Her tone was light, but final. “I am afraid our conversation topics have come to an end. Let us enjoy the rest of the set in silence.”
Darcy blinked stupidly, unsure what to do to fix the mess he had made. He wished to relive this dance in his mind after he left, to bask in the warm glow of the memory. Now it would be tainted—marked by his own poor judgment and sharper tongue.
As the final chords ended their dance, he offered his arm to Miss Elizabeth, escorting her from the floor. She accepted with impeccable civility, though without warmth. Spirits low, he skulked to a corner, hiding there until it was time for supper, chastened by the knowledge that he had wounded the very person he most wished to please.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The ball lasted well into the early hours of the morning. Thankfully, the Bennet carriage was among the first to be called. Elizabeth sank wearily into the squab, her feet aching from a night of dancing. The ride back to Longbourn was silent.
The horses’ hooves struck a steady rhythm against the damp road, the carriage lamps casting a muted glow upon hedgerows slick with frost. Elizabeth leaned back, closing her eyes briefly, her exhaustion as much emotional as physical. The night had demanded more of her than she had anticipated. Jane sat opposite her, hands folded neatly in her lap, her expression composed yet distant, as though her thoughts remained behind at Netherfield.
Jane seemed in good spirits the next day. She informed Elizabeth privately that Mr. Bingley had informed her he would go to Town that day but be back at the end of the week and would call then. Elizabeth thought it strange for the gentleman to travel so soon after a ball but thought no more on the subject.
Jane spoke with measured calm, though Elizabeth noted the careful phrasing, the way she repeated his assurances as ifto convince herself of their solidity. Elizabeth, for her part, dismissed the unease that briefly stirred within her. Men of fortune were often summoned by business; there was no reason to suspect impropriety.
It came as a great surprise when the day following, Jane received a note from Miss Bingley, informing her that the entire party had departed to Town for the winter. The letter further said there was nothing much in the area they would miss beyond Jane’s company, and then hinted that Mr. Bingley had an attachment to Miss Darcy.
Elizabeth watched Jane read the letter, her color draining line by line, her composure holding only by sheer force of will.
That is the true purpose for my brother’s departure, my dear Miss Bennet. Miss Darcy has long held him in affection, and now that she has reached a reasonable age, he means to pursue her heart. My brother’s connection to the Darcy family will soon be more than just the bonds of friendship. Yes, it is truly a glorious time! Miss Darcy has not her equal in fortune, favor, or beauty. I can scarcely wait to call her sister.
“Do not believe a word of it, Jane. This is the drivel of a woman scorned. Everyone could see how she threw herself at Mr. Darcy, only to be rebuffed in the most gentlemanlike manner. Now, she seeks to crush your own hopes and dreams.”
Elizabeth’s voice was sharp with indignation, her hands clenched at her sides. She had witnessed enough of Miss Bingley’s behavior to recognize malice when she saw it.
Jane shook her head at Elizabeth. “No, Lizzy, she means to put me on my guard. I sensed something…off…about Mr. Bingley’s behavior last night. There were several times he said something as if hoping for a particular reply from me. I could see the disappointment when I replied…incorrectly.”
Her voice faltered despite her effort to remain composed.
“Tell me what you mean.” Elizabeth frowned as Jane described what could only be calledhintsfrom Mr. Bingley. “It sounds as though he was attempting to get you to expose your feelings,” she said slowly.
The realization sat uneasily with her. Such probing was uncharacteristic of Bingley—or so she had thought.
“But that is not proper!” Jane’s appalled look spoke to her discomfort. “I long to tell him how I feel, but I am bound by rules of propriety—I must wait for him to declare his feelings first. Have I not demonstrated my preference for his company?”
Her voice broke then, and she turned away, blinking rapidly. “Perhaps his sister was instructed to write me in this manner because he will not return.”
“If Mr. Bingley does not return, then his capricious nature will be known by all our friends. You deserve someone confident enough in their character and affection—and in yours. There is a gentleman out there who will see your worth.”
Elizabeth spoke firmly, though her heart ached for Jane. She would have gladly traded every clever retort she possessed for the ability to mend what had been broken.
Elizabeth’s words did little to comfort her cousin. Jane quietly revealed the contents of the missive to Mrs. Bennet before retreating to her chambers. Mrs. Bennet kept her temper under good regulation, though she informed her husband that their daughter had been hurt. Elizabeth’s aunt and uncle resolved to wait and see if their faith in Mr. Bingley’s gentlemanly conduct had been misplaced.
The household adjusted itself to the unspoken sorrow. Doors were closed more often, voices lowered, cheer carefully moderated.
One week passed, and then two, then three. Jane grew despondent, keeping to her chambers except for meals. Aftersome time, she affected her mask of serenity, effectively hiding her hurt from her family.
Elizabeth knew the mask well. She had worn similar ones herself, though never so painfully. Jane’s smiles became softer, her laughter rarer, her eyes dulled by disappointment she refused to name aloud.
Soon, the Gardiners arrived from London for the festive season. Though they were not Elizabeth’s blood relations, she loved them as such, and they her. Mr. Gardiner had helped Mr. Bennet care for her fortune for years, investing and reinvesting until she had more than fifty thousand pounds at her disposal in addition to owning Netherfield.
Their arrival brought with it a measure of warmth and familiarity, a reminder that constancy still existed in the world.
“I wish I could evict Mr. Bingley,” she told Mr. Gardiner hotly one night after supper. “He has treated my cousin very ill.”
