"Yes."
"My daughter is occupied at present."
"I would not detain her long."
"No," said Mr Bennet. "I am sure you would not intend to."
There was nothing in the words which could be answered without making matters worse. Darcy felt the rebuke because some part of it was deserved. He bowed and stepped back. Mr Bennet returned to the trunk.
Darcy saw Elizabeth at last upon the stairs.
She held her gloves in one hand and her bonnet in the other, and was speaking over her shoulder to a maid. There was nothing extraordinary in the sight. She was merely descending a staircase. Yet the whole hall seemed to alter around her. He had thought the same thing before and despised himself for it as fanciful; now he had no energy left for self-contempt.
She saw him and her step faltered.
"Miss Elizabeth."
"Mr Darcy."
A moment later Miss Bennet emerged from the passage, cast them a look of anxious sympathy and went into the parlour. Mr Bennet was within sight at the door. Mrs Makepeace was within hearing. Servants moved around them with boxes, cloaks and all the relentless apparatus of departure. And yet, for a moment, Darcy felt as though the house had given them a small and dangerous mercy.
"I did not know you were leaving," he said.
"No. Nor did I, until last night."
"Is it your wish?"
Elizabeth’s gaze moved briefly towards the open door where her father stood speaking to the driver. "It is my family’s decision."
"That is not what I asked."
"No," she said, looking back at him. "I suppose it is not."
Around them, the house continued its motion. Mrs Bennet called gently for her eldest daughter. Bingley’s voice rose somewhere in an attempted cheerfulness which fooled no one. Mrs Makepeace informed a maid that a travelling rug folded in that manner might as well be thrown into the sea for all the use it would be. Darcy heard none of it clearly.
"I have no right to ask you to stay," he said.
"No."
"I have no right to ask anything of you."
"That has not always prevented you."
The words were severe enough to be deserved, but there was no cruelty in them. There was sadness, a little humour and enough softness to wound him.
"No," he said. "It has not. I am trying to learn better."
Her expression changed, and he saw, with a misery sharpened by hope, that she was not indifferent. The moment closed quickly. Elizabeth drew on one glove and then the other, though her fingers were not quite steady.
"Goodbye, Mr Darcy."
He bowed. "Goodbye, Miss Elizabeth."
It was perfectly correct and he hated every part of it. Something inside him screamed to say more, to do more. Instead, he bowed politely and stepped back.
The next quarter of an hour was conducted under the tyranny of good manners. Mrs Bennet embraced Georgiana with genuine affection and promised to write, while Georgiana held to her a little longer than strict composure allowed. Jane and Bingley took leave of one another with such painful restraint that even Mrs Makepeace, who was not inclined to sentimental indulgence, dabbed at her eyes. Mr Bennet shook hands witheveryone in turn. He was civil to Darcy, very civil, so civil that Darcy wanted to scream.
Mrs Bennet laughed, kissed Georgiana once more and allowed Mr Bennet to hand her into the carriage. Jane followed, pale and smiling. Elizabeth came last.
