Mr. Wickham spun Marianne with the other dancers and she laughed. She enjoyed Mr. Wickham’s romantic turn of mind and his easy banter so well that she nearly forgot to watch Elinor and Edward; what an uneasy couple they made!
***
As the music ended, Elinor saw Elizabeth and Marianne take Mary’s place at the pianoforte. Elinor expected Edward to partner Marianne next, but he drew her to the back of the room, in a corner that would afford them a modicum of privacy.
Edward procured them each a glass of wine as he took a seat beside her on the chaise, which was just wide enough to admit them both without obliging them to touch. There had been such a little sofa at Norland, by the fire, and many times Edward had sat at her side, reading aloud. That happy memory was from before she had learned the awful truth, before she had given up what little hope she had cherished.
Edward’s face grew grim and he averted his eyes. “I understand you have met Miss Lucy Steele.”
She doubted he could be aware of his lady’s reason for traveling to Barton Park, but Elinor bit back an unkind retort. “Yes.”
“And she took you into her confidence.”
Elinor rather felt the confidence had beenforcedupon her. “Yes.”
Edward’s lips parted and his brows creased; his eyes were full of pity. “I know what you must think of me.”
Elinor could not bear it, and she let herself show the pity she felt for him at the future he would have with Lucy. “I think you a man who will honor his word.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “What if I am not?”
Elinor nearly choked as she took a sip of her wine. “Pardon?”
Edward looked pained. On the chaise, his hand slid over hers. “Nearly a dozen times at Norland, I wished to tell you how I felt.”
Elinor drew in a sharp breath. “Did you never once wish to tell me about Lucy?”
He hung his head and sighed. “A foolish infatuation of my youth. Only when I met you did I know what it meant to truly love a woman, and then I feared it was too late. I was afraid – and even now, I fear you will despise me.”
Elinor stared at the rug, her mind awhirl with things she wished to say to him, questions she wished to ask. “Why were you afraid?”
“I feared you would shame me for flirting with you when my honor is engaged elsewhere, and that you are too good to wish to be my choice.”
“I hope I am,” she blurted out, shifting away from him. “I cannot ask you to forsake her, however much I might have desired….”
“Then do not ask it of me. There is no need, for I have made my mind up already. I intend to break it off with her. Our last visit together taught me how ill-suited we are, and even before I met you, I had my doubts.”
“Then why did you not end it sooner?”
“Cowardice, I suppose, and a little moral reservation. Even now I cannot say if it is right, but it is what I must do.” Edward took her hand in his, his gaze beseeching. “If I were to introduce you to my mother in London…. She would never approve of Lucy, but you are kind and intelligent, and I believe she would accept our union.”
“And if she did not? Would it remain a secret?” Elinor felt her stomach twist.
“Perhaps for a time….”
Elinor recoiled, struck by the sudden notion of Edward forming a lengthy engagement to her, only to meet anothersuperior lady and forsake her. “You cannot have loved me if you did not trust me with the truth.”
“I did not wish to lose you, or to trouble you at a time when you were already melancholy. Elinor, must I beg you to end my torment?”
“I cannot. Only you can accomplish that. I will not enter any understanding with you while you are promised to another.” Elinor’s eyes began to fill with tears; she abruptly stood and excused herself. She retreated to a small, unused parlor as she collected herself; she required several minutes to achieve some semblance of equanimity.
When she returned to the large set of parlors filled with revelers, she expected to find Edward dancing with Marianne or perhaps Margaret. Instead, her sisters told her that Edward had already taken his leave. Mrs. Jennings had offered the use of her carriage for his safe journey to London, and he made haste in accepting her kindness.
Elinor muddled through the rest of the evening, though she was relieved that all her relations were merry enough. Only Jane seemed dispirited, and Elinor spent considerable time in tranquil silence at Jane’s side.
Eventually Jane confided in her, revealing an uncharacteristic sense of resentment that troubled her. “Mamma believes that if Mr. Bingley had known of my fortune, he would not have abandoned Netherfield – he would not have abandoned me. Perhaps I ought to wish for that, but I cannot. When I think of it, I am angry that Mr. Bingley did not care enough for me, simply as myself, to even bid us a proper farewell.”
Elinor found she shared her cousin’s disillusionment with the male sex, but she felt unequal to sharing her own woes. She could not even bring herself to speak of it with Marianne thatevening, and had no wish to speak of it the next day, for she was determined to have a happy Christmas with her relations.
