She set aside the garment in her hands, although she still did not look up. “It was wrong of me.”
For a moment, Elizabeth remained still. She had already forgiven her sister, yet she could not help but wonder whether the ease they had once shared would ever be entirely restored. There was this distance between them now, and soon she would go far away to Pemberley, where Fitzwilliam would, quite naturally, become the person closest to her.
“I forgive you, Jane,” Elizabeth said at last, returning to her task. “And I think I can understand, at least in part, how our sudden appearance might have surprised you into acting in a way you would not otherwise. You will always be welcome in my home, and if remaining here with Mama becomes too much, you need only write.”
Jane nodded. “I know that,” she said. “But I think I must remain here, particularly as all my other sisters will soon be leaving.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but Jane continued before she could.
“I think I must learn to look at people differently than I do now,” she said. “There is much about myself that I must come to understand, and I do not believe I could do so at Pemberley or in London. It must be here.”
Unable to find an argument against that, Elizabeth nodded before continuing packing. The two spoke a little, but not much of import was said. Finally, all of Elizabeth’s things that she would take into her new life were packed in the two trunks that stood in her room, and she looked around at the nearly empty room.
She was ready for the next step in her life.
Twenty-Two
Given all that had transpired over the course of the last fortnight, Darcy found himself unexpectedly grateful for the hush of the evening. It was his last night before the wedding, and for once he was not obliged to endure company. He would not have objected had that company been Elizabeth, but it would inevitably have included her entire family, and while he had come to find most of them vastly more than tolerable, he could not regret this final night of solitude.
When he had sent for a few of his servants to attend him at Stoke during his stay, he had also taken care to have a supply of good brandy brought with them. He had not forgotten the poor quality available in Meryton on his previous visit and was well satisfied now to have something better at hand. It suited the evening—quiet, reflective, and entirely his own—as he considered the change that awaited him on the morrow.
Seated comfortably before the fire, his coat and waistcoat set aside, his thoughts turned over all that had passed since he had seen Elizabeth again at Pemberley. A sudden knock at the door startled him enough that his glass nearly slipped from his grasp. He caught it just in time,though a few drops spilled onto his shirt. Setting the glass aside with a faint exhale, he rose, mildly irritated at the interruption.
That irritation vanished at once when he saw who stood in the doorway.
“Richard,” he said, genuine pleasure in his tone.
His cousin leaned casually against the frame, a knowing look already forming as his gaze dropped to Darcy’s shirt. “You are to wed tomorrow and are already in your cups tonight?” he observed. “That does not bode well for the success of this marriage. From your letter, I had understood it to be a love match.”
Darcy shook his head, unable to suppress a flicker of amusement at his cousin’s words. He had written to Richard on Sunday evening and sent the letter off early Monday morning, yet had received no reply and had begun to doubt his cousin would attend. He ought to have known better. Fitzwilliam never failed to appear when there was an opportunity to tease him.
Crossing the room, Darcy clasped his hand and drew him into a firm embrace. “Despite the manner of your arrival, I am very glad you are here—particularly so that you may stand up with me tomorrow.” He glanced down at the stains on his shirt. “I assure you, the state of my attire has more to do with your untimely pounding upon my door than with any apprehension on my part.”
Richard laughed. “And yet, on the night before your wedding, you choose to sit alone with a glass of brandy rather than seek out your bride? I confess, it does little to recommend your prospects for happiness. Why are you here alone? Where is Bingley—or any of your other friends who might have wished to attend?”
Darcy did not rise to the provocation. “My intended’s mother was quite firm in her opinion that my presence this evening would be more hindrance than help. I was dismissed long before I would have chosen to go.” He paused, his expression sobering slightly. “In truth, the last fortnight has been so full that this is the first moment I have had to consider what tomorrow signifies. It is fortunate I remembered to writeto you at all.”
“You are to be married on the morrow,” Richard said, his tone shifting, though not entirely losing its edge. “To Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Yes,” Darcy replied quietly. “At last.” His fingers tightened slightly around his glass before he set it aside.
Richard studied him more closely now, the teasing giving way to curiosity. “I confess, I should like to understand how this has come about. When last we were together in Kent, I would have sworn Miss Bennet did not like you in the least. And you—” he gave a short shake of his head, “—you were in such a black humour after we left that I thought something serious had passed between you. It was not my aunt; you have endured her for years. What happened?”
Darcy did not answer at once. Instead, he turned back to the table, poured another measure of brandy for himself, and filled a second glass for his cousin. Only once they were both seated did he speak.
“There are few who know the whole of it,” he said more deliberately. “I would prefer it remain so.”
Richard inclined his head. “You have my word.”
Darcy considered his glass for a moment before continuing. “I admired Elizabeth—almost from the beginning, though I did not properly understand it at the time. Unfortunately, I contrived to offend her at our very first meeting. I spoke carelessly, as I have too often done, and gave her every reason to think ill of me.”
He exhaled quietly. “What is worse, I did not correct the impression. I was accustomed to being sought after regardless of my behaviour and foolishly believed she would be no different. That, I think, was my first mistake.”
Richard made a small, knowing sound.
“After months of indecision,” Darcy continued, “I proposed to her at Hunsford.”
Richard sputtered slightly into his drink. “I did not know. You have been engaged since April?”
