Page 71 of Her Affections and Wishes

A swell of anguish staggered him. She had been so close to dying. She might have drunk the poison and died in agony, or she might have been crushed to death—and by only chance and luck had she been spared. How would he have lived with himself if she had died?

A gloved hand took his, and the contact forced him back to the present. Jane offered her silent comfort, and he was not too proud to accept it—or he was so distressed that he had no choice lest he lose all control. But he could not break down in front of Jane, so he collected himself and nodded his thanks. She gestured toward a bench at the entrance of the sad space Woodcote called a park.

“I am sure we will become great friends from our united love for Lizzy,” Jane said as they sat.

Darcy wondered if she led him here to talk, or if she noticed him tiring. “And for Bingley too. I do not mind having him as a brother,” he said, forcing himself into cheerfulness. “Although it is not how your future sister Caroline Bingley imagined it would happen.”

If Jane was to be his sister, and if they were to be friends—and how could they not with her and Elizabeth being so close and he having a steady friendship with Bingley—he had to tell her the truth. Jane must not know what he had done to keep her and Bingley apart, not if she was being so kind to him. She seemed to know nothing of his failed proposal or what had happened to Georgiana, but she should know that he had delayed her current happiness.

“I have a confession, Jane,” he began. “I feared you did not care for my friend last autumn, and I had some foolish and selfish pretensions about your family. I never should have interfered,” he rushed to say. “I thought it would be an unhappy connexion for Bingley, and one of unequal affection, so I encouraged him to never go back to Hertfordshire. I am exceedingly sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

Her answer was swift and without a hint of distress. She did not even sound surprised. “You knew? But when did Elizabeth tell you?”

“Bingley told me. He mentioned his sisters’ interference as well, but he takes the blame on himself. He says he was more dependent on your judgment than on his own. But you sent him back in April? Because Lizzy told you I loved him?” He nodded. “I cannot imagine how such a subject was broached. You were not engaged whilst at Hunsford, were you?”

Certainly not, but he would let Elizabeth tell that story if she wished. “We had some frank conversations in Kent and…and she was furious with me. Rightfully so,” he added.

“It seems she has forgiven you,” Jane said. She did not have Elizabeth’s vivacity, but she had her own quiet humour. “And so have I, and so has Bingley. I am happy you and I will be brother and sister.”

Her words were a more profound relief than he expected. To cover his feelings, he coughed and said, “Will your parents come soon? Your father’s letter said nothing of their plans, but I am sure they were too much in shock to decide anything at that moment.”

“I doubt they will come since I told them Lizzy is lucid.” Perhaps his disapproval showed in his face because she added, “My father was worried, of course, but he has no patience for nursing.”

“And Mrs Bennet?”

Jane dropped her eyes. “She is most concerned that Lizzy is healthy enough to marry you, and if you are still here, she is satisfied.” In a rush, she added, “Lizzy needs the quiet, and I can take care of her. The surgeon was insistent on no visitors, anyway.”

“Surely your parents would not be considered visitors.”

“I think the matter was nothing to distress or vex her.”

He did his utmost to quell his feelings of abhorrence. Elizabeth’s parents should want to see her regardless of the surgeon’s orders, or at least they should be here to see her as soon as he said it was permissible. But Jane thought they would be more disruptive than calming. Darcy was dying a slow death waiting to see Elizabeth, and only the fear of distressing her and setting back her recovery kept him away.

“Mr Darcy⁠—”

“Darcy,” he insisted.

She smiled, but wore a serious expression. “Lizzy is worried about you. She knows you were poisoned, and she keeps asking about what happened that day with Lady Metcalfe.”

“Does she want to see me?” A hopeful lilt, he was aware, coloured his voice. “Ask me questions?”

“I will tell her you are recovering, but she wants to know what happened to both of you. I do not approve,” she said firmly. “It is too soon. The surgeon said nothing should trouble her, that she should not concentrate on anything. But Lizzy would ignore the surgeon’s instructions if you asked to see her.”

“No,” he swore. “I will discuss it when she is better, but I do not want to set back her recovery. How is she, truly? Spare me nothing, Jane.”

“She is sitting up for longer, but her head, though clear, is exceedingly weak. I feel that although she might be altogether doing well, all things considered, it is impossible to say when she might bear the removal home.”

“Or bear the reminder of what injured her in the first place?” Jane nodded sadly. It disappointed him, but nothing was more important than her recovery. “Then I will wait to see her. Tell her I have not even asked for an interview, although of course I will stay at Woodcote until Elizabeth can return to Longbourn.”

They both turned at a noise and saw his valet coming toward them. “The magistrate has sent for you. He has questions for you, and his man intends to bring you back with him. Shall I tell him to return and interview you here?”

He must give his deposition. All the fear and anger he felt on Saturday would return to the fore. “No, I can manage a carriage ride.”

“Sir, you are still very…ill.”

Warren had been about to say “weak.” Darcy resented the implication, no matter how true it was. Weak though he might be, it was not as though he were brittle and frail.