She paused, then added, with a faint but perceptible strain in her voice, “It is not that I would doubt you—but it has all happened so very suddenly. I cannot help but feel there is something I do not yet understand.”
“When I left Kent, I could not have accepted Mr Darcy, even should he have offered again,” Elizabeth replied with certainty. “But when I met him again at Pemberley, I had the opportunity to see how much he had changed, how much he had taken to heart what I said to him then. Had he not truly been in love with me, I do not believe he would have proposed again. We were in one another’s company on several occasions in Derbyshire, and, though I quite took him off his guard with my unexpected arrival at his estate, he was uniformly kind—not only to me, but to my relations as well.”
“Yes, Lizzy,” Jane said, leaning slightly forward, a note of urgency in her voice, “but do you love him?”
She could not suppress the smile that rose at the thought of her intended. “I do, so very much.”
“But how can you be so certain?”
Elizabeth gave a soft, almost incredulous laugh, her hands twisting in her lap. “Oh, Jane, I must confess that is very difficult to explain; but I know that I love him most sincerely. At Pemberley, I saw Mr Darcy as he truly is, and he is so unlike the man I believed him to be last autumn. He is far more compassionate and considerate of others, and though he may still be haughty at times, I believe we have both undergone considerable change in our understanding of one another.”
Pausing again, she studied her sister’s expression. “Perhaps you have not yet had the opportunity to observe it, but consider how readily he involved himself in our present difficulties. Would the man we met last autumn have willingly travelled more than a hundred miles to assist us in addressing our sister’s situation, not knowing what we might discover upon our arrival?” She shook her head slightly. “On several occasions during our journey, I asked whether he was certain he wished to marry me, and each time he reassured me—without hesitation—that he was entirely so.”
For a moment, Elizabeth’s gaze softened; she looked down, her fingers absently tracing the seam of her sleeve as memory overtook her.
“Then I wish you well,” Jane said, breaking into her thoughts.
Elizabeth looked up at once, her brows drawing together as she studied her sister more closely.
“Jane,” she said slowly, “why do you seem so much against the match? I understand your initial distress—particularly after Mama’s outburst regarding Mr Bingley—but you were reserved even after that was explained. You have been almost hostile towards Mr Darcy; yet I cannot comprehend why you should seem—” she faltered, searching for the right word, “—almost displeased with me.”
She watched as Jane drew in a steadying breath, her hands clasping tightly together in her lap. The silence stretched, long enough that Elizabeth began to wonder whether she would answer at all. But when Jane at last spoke, the words came in a rush.
“Last autumn, Mr Bingley paid me every attention, yet he left without a word,” Jane said, her voice trembling despite her obviouseffort at composure. “And even when he was at Pemberley he did not come, no doubt due to the scandal caused by Lydia. For months, I have not had a line, not a single attempt…” She broke off, pressing her lips together before continuing, more quietly, “What is it about me that makes everyone so ready to leave me? And now—even you will go.”
Elizabeth stared at her, quite struck silent, the force of her sister’s distress rendering her, for several moments, unable to reply. When at last her thoughts began to order themselves, one question rose above the rest.
“How did you know Mr Bingley was at Pemberley?” she asked.
Fifteen
Jane faltered for several moments, her gaze fixed upon her clasped hands, as though she could not compel herself to speak. At last, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, she said, “Aunt Gardiner spoke of it upstairs with mama. But, also… before you arrived, I… I had a letter from Caroline.”
Elizabeth rose at once, suddenly unable to remain still. She crossed the room, then turned and crossed it again, her steps measured but restless, until at last she stopped and drew in a slow, steadying breath.
“I will not ask what that harpy said,” she began, though the very mention of the letter had stirred a sharp, unbidden anger within her. She pressed her fingers briefly together, as if to contain her feelings. “But there are two or three things which I think you ought to know.”
She paused again, mastering herself before she continued.
“I met Mr Darcy again at Pemberley, and our arrival was entirely unplanned. Though I had not wished to visit—feeling it quite improper to call at the estate of a man I believed myself so mistaken about—my aunt and uncle were resolved upon it, and I would not disappoint them.As we walked through the grounds, I encountered him. He was as surprised as I was, yet he greeted me with every civility.”
Resuming her pacing, although walking more slowly now, her tone was steadier as she went on.
“He enquired after my family, and showed the greatest attention to my aunt and uncle. The following day, he called at the inn where we were staying, bringing Miss Darcy—and Mr Bingley—with him. My aunt and I returned the call the next day, while my uncle went out with the gentlemen. We spent much of the day with Miss Darcy, though Miss Bingley made her displeasure at my presence quite evident.” Elizabeth’s lips pressed together briefly. “Miss Darcy was much affected by it; yet, before we left, we were invited to dine the following evening.”
Hesitating briefly, her hand came to rest against the back of a chair.
“That dinner did not take place. The next morning, Mr Darcy came to the inn shortly after I had received your letters. Although I had wished to read them immediately, he asked me to walk with him, and I believed your letters might wait an hour.” A faint colour rose in her cheeks at the recollection. “During that walk, we were able… to come to a better understanding. He told me that his feelings were unchanged—and that he still wished to court me.”
Elizabeth’s voice softened at this memory, though her composure held. Her pacing continued again, slower than it had been, but still clearly agitated.
“We spoke plainly. I told him that I had no need of a formal courtship, for I already knew my own mind. We became engaged then. While he spoke with my uncle, I read your letters, and—of course—I offered to release him, for we did not know what awaited me here. But he would not hear of it.” She lifted her gaze to Jane’s, steady and resolute. “He was determined. He said he had lived without me as long as he had any desire to do so, and that nothing would prevent him from marrying me, now that I had consented.”
Elizabeth drew in a breath, then released it slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders as she at last grew still.
“We parted company shortly after that, with Fitzwilliam returning to Pemberley to make arrangements to accompany us with Georgiana. I asked him to say nothing to the Bingleys about the reason for our sudden departure, though I imagine they may have drawn their own conclusions—which is, no doubt, what Miss Bingley has conveyed to you. I had little doubt that, had Fitzwilliam spoken openly of the matter to Mr Bingley, Miss Bingley would soon be apprised of the matter. As I did not know what might await us at Longbourn, I thought it best that as few as possible should suspect the potential for scandal.”
She paused, watching Jane closely, the pieces settling into place.
