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“I can understand why that would be distressing,” Jane said with mock solemnity.
Elizabeth could not prevent a laugh from escaping. “How did you know you are in love with Mr. Bingley?” she asked.
Her sister bit her lip, staring at the shrubbery on the other side of the path. “Do you remember when we viewed the stars on the roof of Uncle Gardiner’s house? He told us how we could determine which was the Polar Star because it was brighter than all the other stars?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth responded cautiously.
“At first I did not understand because all the stars seemed so bright and beautiful, but after a minute I could see that one of them was indeed the brightest. That is how I feel about Charles. There are many handsome men. Many well-spoken, gentlemanly men. But when I look at Charles, he shines so much more brightly than all the others.”
Elizabeth felt as if someone were shining a bright star directly into her eyes. “Ohhhh.”
Jane’s eyes were fixed on the shrubbery, but no doubt she was imagining her beloved. Finally, her sister brought her focus back to Elizabeth. “Do you love Mr. Darcy?”
“I do not know.”
“Does he shine more brightly than all the other men you know?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said slowly. “He does. He certainly does. But can I trust that feeling? What if it is simply the result of gratitude or habit?”
Jane shrugged. “That is a risk. Perhaps you ought not to attempt it.”
Elizabeth’s hands tightened spasmodically, crushing Jane’s handkerchief into a little ball. “No, you are wrong! I ought to attempt it!”
One side of Jane’s mouth curved up in a smile, and Elizabeth understood that she had been tricked.
“Clever Jane,” she laughed. “Sometimes you know me better than I know myself.”
Jane took one of Elizabeth’s hands and squeezed it affectionately. “You should visit Pemberley and speak with him.”
“What will I say?”
“Lizzy, when are you ever at a loss for words? You will know when you are there.”
***
“William!”
Darcy started guiltily at the sound of his name. “Hmm?” He turned to his sister.
“You have not eaten any of your dinner!”
He glanced down at his plate; in truth he had forgotten they were eating a meal. “That is not so, Georgiana. I ate a…” He searched the plate for an empty spot. “I had a piece of potato…I believe.”
Georgiana rolled her eyes. “I do not know why you bother to come down to dinner. You only pick at your food and stare out of the window.”
I am the worst brother who ever lived. “Dearest, I apologize. Was there something you wished to discuss?”
“I was discussing it. You were not attending to my words,” she said tartly.
“I am sorry. What were you saying? Something about the letter from Adele?” Since returning from France, Darcy had sought a way to bring Adele and her family safely to England and away from the dangers in Paris.
Georgiana made a sour face. “I was describing my plans to elope with Billy, the gardener’s son.”
A moment of panic shot through Darcy before he realized that his sister was joking. “The gardener’s son is named Robert.”
His sis
ter sat up straighter in her chair and laid down her fork. “You must simply go and retrieve her.”
