“All true.”
“Even so—” Elizabeth stopped.
Jane waited.
“Even so,” Elizabeth continued, more quietly, “he seems determined to pursue the matter.”
Jane’s gaze showed her agreement. “Yes.”
Elizabeth returned to her seat.
“I do not trust it.”
“His change?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Elizabeth considered that. “Because I do not understand it.”
Jane smiled. “Understanding is not always necessary.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “For me, it is.”
Jane’s hand tightened gently around hers once more. “Then you must learn more.”
Elizabeth met her gaze.
“That would require speaking with him.”
Jane’s expression conveyed quiet encouragement. “It would.”
Elizabeth turned away.
“I am uncertain whether I wish to.”
Jane’s smile deepened. “And still, you wish to know.”
Elizabeth offered no reply.
The silence lengthened, though it remained entirely comfortable.
At last, Jane slept once more, her breathing gradually evening as she settled back into rest.
Elizabeth remained at her side.
The fire shifted behind her. Rain continued its steady fall beyond the window, and the house, despite the number of its occupants, seemed wrapped in a stillness that left little refuge from one’s own thoughts.
Only the night before, she had resolved to give no further thought to Mr. Darcy.
That resolution now lay in unmistakable ruin.
Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, her gaze resting on nothing in particular.
She would not like him.
That much remained unchanged.
