For a moment, amid the resumed music and forced gaiety, they stood together in quiet understanding, aware that the evening had taken a turn none of them could undo—and that its consequences were only beginning to unfold.
“Mr. Bingley’s behavior tonight was beyond the pale.” Jane’s quiet voice penetrated the darkness as she climbed beneath Elizabeth’s coverlet. The bed creaked softly with the added weight, and the curtains stirred faintly as a draft slipped through the imperfectly latched window.
“Indeed, it was. To accuse Sir William in such a manner—and among company!” Elizabeth turned onto her side to face hersister, though she could barely make out Jane’s features in the dimness. “It was abhorrent. Mr. Darcy grows more and more concerned with his friend’s behavior.” She could still picture Darcy’s tightened jaw, the restrained sadness in his eyes as Hurst had guided Bingley away. That concern had been genuine—and troubling.
Jane sighed, a long, weary sound that spoke of disappointment rather than anger.
“I find myself dreading Mr. Bingley’s presence. What happened to the amiable gentleman who was all a gentleman should be?”
She paused, the silence stretching just long enough for Elizabeth to sense what was coming.
“Why can he not be more like—”
Jane cut off abruptly, the words themselves seeming to startle her.
“More like Colonel Fitzwilliam, perhaps?” Elizabeth supplied gently.
“Yes.”
Jane’s admission came on a breath.
“I admit I like Mr. Bingley less and less every day. There is something lacking—maturity, maybe.”
Her fingers twisted in the sheet between them.
“He speaks as though the world owes him satisfaction, and when he does not receive it, he grows…sharp.”
Jane’s voice dropped even further.
“Could Mr. Bingley’s behavior be spurred by jealousy alone?”
Elizabeth hesitated. Darcy’s confidence echoed in her mind: his careful phrasing, his reluctance to speak ill of a friend. “Though I am not at liberty to say, no, it is not,” she answered quietly. “Darcy tells me there are…other things weighing on Mr. Bingley’s mind.”
Jane shifted closer and grasped Elizabeth’s hands beneath the covers, her touch warm and earnest. “Then I must be kinder and more understanding.”
Elizabeth squeezed her fingers in return. “Yes, dearest, but do not mistake pity for something more.” She fell silent for a moment, her heart thudding as she weighed a decision she had been postponing for far too long. The secret pressed against her chest until it felt impossible to breathe around it. Finally, she spoke. “I have something to tell you. I have kept it a secret for weeks and can no longer do so without bursting.”
Jane stilled at once. “Lizzy?”
Quickly, though not without trembling pauses, Elizabeth told her sister about the treasure hoard she had discovered. She spoke of the dew-covered field, the first flash of gold in the soil, the dreadful exhilaration of uncovering history with her bare hands. She told Jane how their father had hidden it away, how the crate had vanished and reappeared in the floor safe, and how he still had not decided what to do with it. The words tumbled out in a hushed rush, as though naming the thing might summon it.
Jane listened in stunned silence.
“Why can he not be like Sir William?” Elizabeth burst out in a harsh whisper, frustration breaking through her restraint.
Jane shifted. “A brooch is much smaller and less valuable than what you found. Though I do not approve, I can see why Papa hesitates.”
“But he has no reason,” she protested. “Mr. Darcy and I are courting, and anyone with eyes can see that Colonel Fitzwilliam is falling in love with you.”
Jane spoke again, her words echoing Elizabeth’s thoughts and deftly changing the subject. “Colonel Fitzwilliam has not yet asked for a courtship.” The words were mild, but Elizabeth knew her sister well enough to hear careful control beneath them.
“Yet his attentions are marked,” Elizabeth countered softly.No matter what the future holds, Papa should do what is right with the hoard. Oh, the expression on his face when Mama told him about Sir William’s discovery and how he notified the proper authorities…The memory made her shiver.Papa turned a shade of red I do not believe can be healthy.
“It will all be well,” Jane said, though whether she reassured Elizabeth or herself, Elizabeth did not know. She rolled over and pressed a kiss to Elizabeth’s cheek, warm and familiar. “I shall see you in the morning.”
Elizabeth listened to the soft rustle of sheets as her sister slipped from the bed and crossed the room. The door opened and closed with barely a sound, leaving Elizabeth alone once more.
She lay awake in the darkness long after, staring up at the faint outline of the canopy above her. Gold hidden beneath floorboards. A father paralyzed by conscience and fear. A friend unraveling under the weight of secrets and debt. And a courtship begun in hope, shadowed by truths she had not yet shared.
