The rational solution displeased Lydia. "But Lizzy, what will you do if Miss Bingley spoke the truth? What if she did not misunderstand?"
The thought alone hurt, and Elizabeth shoved it aside. She had already fallen in love with Fitzwilliam, and such a betrayal would devastate her.
She forced a smile to bolster herself and soothe her sisters. "One cannot live their life imagining all the dreadful things that might happen. More often than not, nothing becomes of it, and all that worry was for naught. I shall afford Fitzwilliam the courtesy of belief. I am certain there is a reasonable explanation."
"What if there’s not?" Lydia pressed.
“Hush, Lydia,” Jane demanded. “You are bitter because Mr. Wickham is gone, and you are bored. Have you nothing better to do with yourself than make everyone as miserable as you claim to be? You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
The force of Jane’s speech stunned Lydia into silence. With a confused huff, she slunk away in search of a more favorable audience.
“I am relieved Mr. Wickham is gone, or she would have ruined us all,” Jane commented after her. Taking Elizabeth’s hand, she asked, “It looks like Miss Bingley’s early departure put an end to the picnic. When will you ask Mr. Darcy for an explanation?”
Elizabeth forced her smile wide, though the temptation to feed the flicker of anger was great. "I shall confront him in church. I cannot kill him there."
Jane’s eyes widened. “Lizzy!”
“I tease, Jane.” Elizabeth looked through the window to the garden. Mr. Bingley had seen his sisters home—probably Miss Darcy too. Elizabeth did not see her.
What she did see through the glass sparked flames in her blood. Never had she seen a guiltier-appearing man than Fitzwilliam looking at her from the other side of the window.
CHAPTER32
Hands clenched, back stiff, shoulders tensed to her ears, Elizabeth walked toward Darcy. She looked fierce without her customary smile.
Richard elbowed him. “You are in for it now.”
Darcy was powerless to move. All he could do was brace himself for the tempest to strike.
“Is it true?” she demanded.
“I believe I shall leave you two to chat.” Richard bowed and retreated.
Assuming nothing, Darcy asked, “Is what true?”
Elizabeth gritted her teeth, speaking through them. “Do you plan for Mr. Bingley to marry your sister?”
Nothing could help him now, so Darcy held his head as high as he could and told the truth. “Yes, I did.”
She snapped, completely overlooking his use of the past tense. “It is ridiculous! Do you really expect Mr. Bingley to wait years until Miss Darcy is ready to marry?” She flailed her arms heavenward. “How do you even know she will remain in love with him that long?”
Darcy knew the folly of rational speech to an impassioned woman, but Elizabeth was wrong about Georgiana. “She is of a steady character.”
“Really? Was she not in love with Mr. Wickham only this last summer?”
She had him there. He clamped his teeth down on his tongue, thinking maybe it would be best to say as little as possible.
“What of Mr. Bingley? Surely, he does not agree with your plan or he would not have paid any particular regard to Jane.”
“No, he would not have. I never openly encouraged the match.”
Elizabeth gasped. “But you wanted it! You would presume to dictate his future without a word of permission? Is that what you do with your sister, too? She would have sensed your approval and understood it as encouragement! Can you not see that by indulging her every whim, you are preventing her from experiencing consequences? In so doing, you deny her the opportunity to learn and grow, to strengthen her character. No, she relies on her protective brother to swoop in and sweep the mess under the rug, swatting my sister out of the way so that yours may trample all over Jane’s heart while she has her fun. It is a selfish love, and it will not last.”
Darcy’s blood lit afire. “Do you doubt Georgiana’s loyalty?”
“To Mr. Bingley—yes.”
“I thought you of all people believed in long-lasting love.”
