Page 29 of A Prudent Engagement

Elizabeth had been selfish—unlike Jane. Even if she married Mr. Darcy, it would certainly not mean that she was willing to make any sacrifice of her own happiness for the family, since she liked Mr. Darcy’s company vastly more than that of her cousin.

When Charlotte was helped out of the carriage by one of Mr. Darcy’s footmen, she was greeted by Lady Lucas, who came out with a wide, cheerful smile that was only half repressed when calling out condolences to Elizabeth and Jane. Lady Lucas also had time before they set off again to exclaim in surprise at seeing that they had all arrived in Mr. Darcy’s carriage.

The equipage rumbled on towards Longbourn.

Twisting, twisting anxiety. Gnawing on her lips. Her face felt numb.

Papa dead. Body. Mama hates me.

Dead. Dead.

“Miss Elizabeth, take a deep breath.”

Mr. Darcy’s sharp voice cut through Elizabeth’s increasing panic.

A deep breath.

She slowly exhaled.

“Breathe deeply again.”

Elizabeth followed the command.

“Once more. Let it out slowly.”

Elizabeth did so. And then again.

She gazed into Mr. Darcy’s sombre eyes.

He looked much like he wished to take her hand again and hold it like he had the previous day. But Jane’s scowling presence made that impossible.

Then the carriage turned onto the drive to Longbourn House and pulled to a stop in front of the painfully familiar red-brick façade.

Their delay due to taking Charlotte to her home had allowed Mr. Gardiner’s carriage to arrive first, and Elizabeth’s mother and sisters had already come out.

Her mother wept in her brother’s arms, and Mr. Gardiner held her with some affection as, a little to Elizabeth’s surprise, he started crying himself.

Mrs. Phillips joined them, and the brother and sisters awkwardly engaged in a sobbing group embrace.

Mr. Darcy stepped down from the carriage and offered his hand to assist the two ladies.

Jane accepted his help, then rushed to their mother and to the arms of her family.

Kitty, Mary, and Lydia hurried out to hug her as well. There were exclamations of surprise.

Elizabeth did not move.

She stared through the window of Mr. Darcy’s carriage at her home—it was not her home any longer—and at her mother. Her stomach knotted.

“Elizabeth.” The sound of Mr. Darcy’s quiet voice made her turn to him. “You love your family.”

“She will hate me.”

“Your mother?”

Elizabeth nodded.

Mr. Darcy was silent.