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They needed to travel only a few steps from the front hallway, but the wretched state of affairs became obvious before they even reached the drawing room door. Lizzy’s voice was quite loud. “…could tempt me to accept the man who had been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister? Can you deny that you have done it?”
Oh no! This was even worse than she had imagined. Lizzy was using Jane’s “broken heart” as a reason to refuse the proposal.
Mr. Darcy’s voice was a low rumble. “No, I do not. But if you have recently corresponded with your sister, then you must know that she and Bingley…” Jane could not discern his next words.
She stood in the dimly lit corridor, unsure how to proceed. Bursting into such a private discussion was the height of impropriety, but Jane did not want to become the wedge that drove Lizzy and Mr. Darcy apart and robbed them of a chance for happiness.
Both Aunt Gardiner and Charles regarded Jane with wide eyes, as if awaiting her signal about their next move. As the closest relation to one of the room’s occupants, apparently she commanded the greatest authority. How odd, Jane thought irrelevantly. People rarely consult me or seek my opinion. How did I find myself in such a position? Under other circumstances she might be flattered by their trust, but at the moment she would have gladly surrendered the authority to someone else.
A cold sweat broke out on the back of her neck. Jane did not want this responsibility. She did not want to make decisions affecting her sister’s happiness.
But they had no other options. They had not traveled all this distance to relinquish their responsibilities now. Boldness was called for, and Jane could manage to be bold—for Lizzy’s sake.
Taking a deep breath, she reached out a shaking hand and turned the knob of the drawing room door. As it swung open, two pairs of shocked eyes greeted her sudden appearance. Mr. Darcy leaned against the mantelpiece, his face drawn and white, while Lizzy was seated by the window, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.
“Jane!” Lizzy jumped to her feet. “What brings you here?”
Carefully worded statements flew out of the window; Jane said the first thing that came to mind. “You cannot use me as the reason you do not marry Mr. Darcy!”
“I beg your pardon?” Lizzy stared at her sister wide-eyed.
Charles spilled into the room behind Jane. “Bingley! What the devil are you doing here?” Mr. Darcy strode forward as if to shake his friend’s hand and then froze when Aunt Gardiner slipped in behind Charles. “How many people are out there?” He had turned quite red, no doubt wondering what they had heard through the door.
Jane stifled an impulse to laugh. “That is all.”
Lizzy’s eyes darted from one to another. “But you should be in London.”
“Do not use me as a reason to re
fuse Mr. Darcy’s offer, Lizzy,” Jane urged. “Everything is well now. Charles and I are betrothed.” She could not help exchanging a little smile with Charles.
“Er…congratulations, Bingley,” Mr. Darcy said.
“Why, this is wonderful news!” Lizzy ran forward and gave her sister a hug but then peered curiously into her face. “Surely you did not travel all this way simply to relay news that could have been conveyed in a letter.”
“I needed to assure you there is no reason to be angry with Mr. Darcy,” Jane explained.
Mr. Darcy rubbed the back of his head, apparently as confused as Lizzy. “Still, would not a letter have sufficed?”
“But that is not my only objection,” Lizzy said to Jane. “It is not merely this affair on which my dislike is founded.” She turned her glare on Mr. Darcy. “You also have reduced Mr. Wickham to his present state of poverty.”
Mr. Darcy readied a sneer in response, but Jane interrupted. “No, Lizzy, Charles explained the story to me. Mr. Wickham has lied. He was compensated for the living and squandered all the money. Then he went on to cause…other difficulties for Mr. Darcy’s family.”
The color drained from Lizzy’s face. “Is this true?” she demanded from Mr. Darcy.
He blinked bemusedly. “As she has said.”
Oh, this was uncomfortable! It was bad enough that Jane was compelled to share other people’s personal information, but it was the personal history of the (rather intimidating) master of Pemberley. She gestured self-consciously to Mr. Darcy. “It is your story to tell, sir. If you have anything to add—”
A smile curved his lips. “You told the principal of the story admirably.”
“Mr. Wickham lied?” Lizzy stumbled back to the chair by the window and sank into its soft embrace.
“Such appears to be the case,” Jane replied.
“You traveled the entire distance from London to inform Miss Elizabeth that Wickham had lied?” Mr. Darcy asked.
Jane did not know how to explain their conduct; now that they were in Kent, their precipitous journey seemed excessive. Apparently Charles felt the same. When Mr. Darcy’s gaze fell upon him, the other man scuffed the toe of his boot uneasily against the carpet. “You had written to me that you would propose to Miss Elizabeth,” Charles told him. “Jane feared her sister had…a less than complete understanding of your character. We thought it best to intervene before Miss Elizabeth refused your suit for the wrong reasons.”
