Page 63 of A Prudent Engagement

She was a little surprised that Mr. Darcy had not come to join them, but perhaps he particularly disliked the idea of hearing Sir William tell him about his presentation to the king—again.

Or perhaps he had found a book that he particularly enjoyed reading.

It was impossible to not smile a little as she imagined him seated in her papa’s library reading one of his books. It was a fairly likely image.

When they had finally talked about books, and compared reading and impressions, she had found that he had a great deal of similarity to her father in his preferences, though considerably less Greek and Latin and considerably more practical science and agricultural manuals.

It had turned out that Elizabeth and Darcy had read many of the same books, and with thoughts that were similar enough for comfort but different enough to provide cause for conversation.

When the last gown was packed away, Charlotte looked at Elizabeth and sighed. Her eyes were glistening with tears, and she embraced her friend tightly.

“I shall write often. I promise,” Elizabeth said.

“I shall depend upon that.” Charlotte laughed. “What an odd week—so mixed!”

“I shall always miss Papa. Always. But I am happy the week was not only filled with sadness.”

“I hardly know whether Lady Catherine will be happy to see Mr. Darcy and you ever visit after he has so severely disappointed her,” Charlotte said. “But I shall always be very happy for you.”

“I shall miss you. I shall wish that you were here as my witness the day we marry.”

Tears pricked the corners of Elizabeth’s eyes; she felt closer to Charlotte than she ever had, and she did not know when she would see her friend again.

“I shall picture you in my mind, feel warm thoughts of happiness for your good future, and raise a toast to you on that day.” Charlotte then wiped at her own eyes. “I shall call the footman and Papa to take the trunk out to the carriage. Let us not be maudlin. I do not wish to be maudlin.”

As the trunk was hauled out, Jane walked into the Lucases’ garden with an odd expression.

“Are you come to also say your farewells again?” Charlotte smiled.

Jane shook her head a little.

“How does my Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked. “Did he settle in the library to read one of Papa’s books?”

There was another small shake of Jane’s head.

Perhaps it was the recent death of her father that had made her more sensitive to such things, but a chill presentiment of doom washed over Elizabeth.

Jane was about to tell her that Mr. Darcy was dead, and she did not think that she would survive hearing it.

“Lizzy, I made a mistake.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes as a wave of relief flowed through her. Anything Jane might say after that beginning would be far easier to handle than what she had imagined.

“Lord!” Elizabeth laughed nervously. “Just say whatever it is. From your manner I had imagined someone had died and you could not bear to tell me.”

“No.” Jane shook her head as she said quietly, “Mama and our sisters are all in perfect health.”

It was odd to Elizabeth how Jane had assumed she was concerned about a member of their family when she had only thought about Mr. Darcy. She found it strange that he was becoming so important to her, and so quickly.

“Well say something!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Unless you wish me to give you both privacy. But if it is a matter that I might hear, I am dreadfully curious about what you could have done that would be such a great mistake, and I must leave in twenty minutes.”

Jane looked between the two of them. “I do not know—I do not know. But, Lizzy, I must tell you now. What I told Mr. Darcy.”

And Elizabeth’s dread suddenly returned, icy cold this time.

“Mr. Darcy!” Charlotte exclaimed. “What did you have to do with him?”

“I told him the truth.” Jane stood straighter. She had a sort of determined fire in her eyes that Elizabeth was not sure she had ever seen there before. “I know this will make you unhappy at present, but it was not right for you to deceive that poor man.”