Page 131 of The Long Road Back to Yesterday

She looked down at her hands. “I have been in love with him for seven years. I know you have every reason to resent my behavior, but I do not know how to stop wanting him simply because I know I should.”

Elizabeth reached across and took her hand. “I do not resent you for loving him, Caroline. There was a time when I loved him and believed I could never hope to have him. I know something of what you are feeling, but understanding you does not make it easier to watch you continually seek my husband’s attention.”

Caroline looked at her for a moment before a reluctant smile appeared. “That is perfectly fair. I shall try harder.”

* * *

One evening, the family from Ashcroft joined the Darcys for dinner at Pemberley. When the company gathered in the drawing room afterward, Charles invited his sister to play. Caroline was a gifted pianist and chose a difficult piece, which she performed with both feeling and skill.

When she finished, Madeline Gardiner turned to her niece. “Lizzy, will you sing ‘King Orfeo’? It was a great favorite of your father’s.”

“Of course, Aunt. It is one of my favorites as well.”

Elizabeth took her place at the pianoforte and played the first notes. She had sung the old ballad many times for Papa, but the story had never held the same meaning for her as it did now. King Orfeo had lost his wife to the fairies and spent years grieving for her before he found her again and brought her home.

As Elizabeth sang of their parting, she thought of December twenty-first. Only weeks remained before she and Fitzwilliam would stand together at Arbor Low and risk losing the life they had found with each other.

When the final notes faded, Elizabeth looked up and found Fitzwilliam watching her. The others applauded, but he did not. His solemn gaze remained fixed upon her, and for a long moment, neither of them looked away.

Elizabeth rose from the pianoforte and went to him. He took her hand and brought it to his lips before drawing her down to sit beside him.

* * *

By late November, Elizabeth had begun to settle into her life at Pemberley, though she sometimes found herself wishing they had no guests and she might have Fitzwilliam entirely to herself.

Jane married Charles on a cold morning near the end of November. As Aunt Maddie arranged the final fold of Jane’s gown, Jane reached for Elizabeth’s hand.

“I wish Papa and Mamma were here.”

“So do I, dearest.”

Uncle Edward led Jane up the same nave he had walked with Elizabeth only weeks before. When Charles took Jane’s hand, Elizabeth slipped her own into Fitzwilliam’s and watched her sister make the same promises she had made to him.

Charles looked at Jane as he spoke his vows, and Jane’s face held such happiness that Fitzwilliam’s fingers closed more firmly around Elizabeth’s. She leaned a little nearer to him. If their plan succeeded, both marriages would disappear after December twenty-first, and suddenly December seemed much too near.

The Bingleys remained at Pemberley only long enough to prepare for their journey north. Charles intended to take Jane to Scarborough to meet his family, while Caroline would remain there with an aunt.

On the morning of their departure, Elizabeth embraced Jane. “I shall miss you. You must write often and tell me everything.”

“I shall. Charles has already promised that I may write as many letters as I please, though he claims I shall be far too occupied with him to remember anyone at Pemberley.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I suspect he means to see that you are.”

Jane glanced toward her husband, who was waiting beside the carriage. Charles caught her eye and smiled, and Jane’s expression softened before she embraced Elizabeth once more.

Caroline waited until Jane had entered the carriage before approaching Elizabeth.

“I wish you happy, Eliza.”

“Thank you, Caroline. I wish the same for you.”

Caroline’s eyes strayed once more to Mr. Darcy before she followed Jane into the carriage.

Elizabeth stood with her as the carriage disappeared down the drive. “I am ashamed to admit that I am glad Caroline has gone. I like her very much, sir, but she has found it difficult to let you go.”

Fitzwilliam looked down at her. “Let me go?”

“She has been in love with you for years, Fitzwilliam.”