Elizabeth did not immediately retire when she reached her chamber. The noise and brilliance of the evening still pressed upon her senses, and though she had borne it well, she felt the need of something steadier—something true.
She crossed to her writing desk and broke the seal on a letter that had arrived that morning but remained unread in the press of preparations. Anticipation coursed through her as she read her beloved aunt’s words.
My dearest Elizabeth,
I understand your fears. You stand now at the edge of that world which has so long been kept from you, and I would not have you enter it unguarded—not in your manners, for those I trust entirely, but in your heart. You will be admired. You will be pursued. Some will see you clearly; many will not. It is the nature of such places to mistake brightness for worth and consequence for character.
You must not allow yourself to be chosen where you have not first chosen. Affection freely given is the only kind that endures without regret. Anything else is but arrangement, however prettily it may be dressed.
I would not have you fearful—but I would have you discerning. There is a difference, and you are well capable of it.
As for those who may seek you, I shall not presume to judge them from afar. You must do that for yourself. Only remember this: a man’s regard is best measured not by what he declares when observed, but by what he does when no advantage is to be gained.
You have always seen more clearly than most. Do not doubt that gift now.
Yours in unchanging affection,
Caroline
Elizabeth folded the letter slowly, her thoughts quieter than they had been all evening. The noise of the ballroom seemeddistant now—less compelling, less certain. Her aunt’s words did not dictate her course, but they steadied her steps upon it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Darcy had never cared much for society. He preferred the order of a well-run estate, the quiet authority of his library, or even the frank discomfort of a poorly managed dinner to the careless noise of men who believed privilege absolved them of thought. Thus, when Bingley invited Darcy to his home after a night at Boodles, Darcy followed him there out of relief as much as affection.
They took their usual seats in Bingley’s study, the room quiet as they poured fine brandy from the decanter. Darcy scarcely noticed the taste of the drink on his tongue, nor the burn as it slid down his throat. He was still unsettled by Lady Matlock’s ball—by what he had learned, and more importantly, by what he hadnotyet confirmed.
Bingley, by contrast, was in excellent spirits.
“I have come to a decision,” he announced, stirring his drink with unnecessary vigor. “And I think you will approve.”
Darcy glanced up. “On what subject?”
“Miss Burrows.” Bingley smiled, unguarded and pleased. “I shall ask her for a courtship.”
Darcy paused. “You are certain?”
“Entirely. I have no doubt of her feelings.” Bingley leaned back, folding his arms with satisfaction. “She is warm, attentive, lively without being foolish. When I am with her, I find myself…less inclined to dwell on other matters.”
Darcy understood at once what he meant—and what he carefully did not say.
“To a point,” Bingley added, with an apologetic shrug. “One does not forget entirely, of course. But time and company are powerful correctives.”
Darcy felt a familiar tightening in his chest. He considered, for a moment, telling Bingley what he had heard—that Miss Bennet might be in Town, that she had been seen under Lady Hertford’s protection, that she had danced the first set with Bramley and left a viscount visibly undone.
But he did not know it for certain.
And worse—he did not yet know how to speak of Elizabeth de Bourgh without betraying himself.
“I am glad you are content,” Darcy said at last. “Miss Burrows is…well situated.”
“She is,” Bingley agreed easily. “Caroline is quite beside herself with triumph.”
That, Darcy thought grimly,was reason enough for caution.
He made to rise, intending to depart, when the study door burst open without ceremony.
“Charles, Iknewit,” Miss Bingley declared, sweeping in with Mrs. Hurst close behind her. “I am certain now.”
