Elizabeth could not help watching the encounter from across the room. Her curiosity was simply too great. To judge by his expression, Mr Darcy was as nonplussed by Sir Lucas’s enthusiasm as she was.
And so it went with all their neighbours. Elizabeth had not realised that in clearing her name, she would have turned herself into a kind of local hero, but so it seemed to go. Of course, that was largely because of Mr Wickham’s treachery, for everyone liked to hear of a traitor being thwarted in his treasonous intentions. At least everyone seemed firmly convinced of her innocence. Whatever it had cost her in hours of confusion and heartache, at least the name of Bennet was safe once more.
Yet all that was nothing if Mr Darcy would not speak to her. To ask her to dance might have been too much to expect. After all, she well knew he did not much care for dancing. But surely it would not have been too much to expect for him to speak to her one last time.
Ought she to speak to him? Elizabeth considered the question uneasily. Was it love or respect that made her think she ought to, and was it cowardice or propriety that made her think it better left undone?
At last, Elizabeth decided she would keep her distance. If she said anything at all, she was very much afraid that she would say too much.
Upon arriving home late from the assembly, she went straight to her room, changed into her nightgown, and climbed under the coverlet. Deliberately, she closed her eyes, wishing that she might simply stop thinking for a time.
But the thoughts would not stay away.
He did not want her. If he had, he would have come to her at the assembly, would have asked her to dance. Instead, he had only looked at her in silence. Surely it would be folly to think there was anything in those looks that mirrored her own longing.
Jane slipped between the covers about a half hour after Elizabeth had gone to bed. She had kept the candle burning, propping up the blankets so she could see her face — just as they had done when they were children. “Are you well, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth wrestled with whether to tell her the truth or keep her feelings to herself. It ought to be an evening of triumph for Jane. Nothing should ruin that. “I am glad you and Mr Bingley could celebrate your engagement with so many friends and well-wishers.”
Jane watched her for several seconds, giving her a tender, understanding smile. “That is not what I asked.”
Elizabeth lowered her voice, wrapping her arms around her waist as if the gesture could stop her from drifting away. “I may not be well at this moment, but I will be.” She offered a tight-lipped smile. “I must confess, seeing Mr Darcy at the assembly was difficult. But I suppose now we know we can meet as common and indifferent acquaintances.”
Jane raised a brow. “I think you are in danger of making him fall as madly in love with you as ever.”
Her sister’s bold delivery caught her off-guard just as much as the contents of the statement. Jane rarely voiced her real thoughts and opinions. “Oh?” Elizabeth asked, hating the tremble in her voice. How was it even worse to feel a spark of hope than to think that all hope was lost?
“You cannot think he doesn’t care for you. Surely you did not miss the look on his face when he saw you this evening. He is in just as much misery as you are.”
“It is too painful to hope,” Elizabeth said raggedly. “I do not think that can be. Why would he not speak to me then — why has he not come to see me? Please, Jane, do not mention him again. I cannot bear it — ” With an effort, Elizabeth regained her control. “Dear Jane, I do not think I can say any more about it. I have made an utter mess of everything.”
“No,” Jane said with surprising firmness. “How can you say so? You have found out the truth, Lizzy, and you stopped Mr Wickham from hurting more people. It must be painful to be congratulated when your heart is breaking — I can see that it is. But do not think that you didn’t do the right thing, simply because it is painful.”
For a moment, Elizabeth could hardly breathe. Jane’s words seemed to ring through her, clearing away all her confusion, if not her grief. Elizabeth had always known that her sister’s integrity was beyond question, that her heart was kindness itself, but to have such a proof of her wisdom was stunning.
Jane’s clear-sightedness deserved a return. “Thank you,” Elizabeth said at last. “I believe I had somewhat lost sight of that. Whatever comes of it, we did the right thing.Idid the right thing. And I would rather lose Mr Darcy with the truth than keep him with a lie.”
“I know,” Jane said softly, “and I love you.”
Elizabeth hardly knew whether the sound she made then was a chuckle, or a sob. “I love you, too.”
With that, Jane nodded and blew out the candle. It was not long before her breathing evened out into sleep. Elizabeth stared into the shadowy corners of the room. Jane had given her something precious — a kind of acceptance, and a degree of peace. And if that could not undo the pain in her heart, if Elizabeth still cried silent tears before she at last went to sleep, it was at least something.
The morning dawned cool and grey. Even having gained a little solace, Elizabeth could not bring herself to join the rest of the family for breakfast. “Tell them I did not sleep very well. Mama will understand,” she told Jane when she was ready to go down. “I will stay here and read a little.
Jane gave her an understanding look. “Of course, Lizzy.”
Unhurriedly, Elizabeth rose and put on her dressing gown. She was at the point of settling into her favourite spot at the window seat and opening her book when Lydia burst through the door without even so much as a knock. “Lizzy! Wake up!”
Elizabeth sat up straight, slightly annoyed that her sister had barged in on her moment of solitude. “I am awake.”
“Get dressed! Get ready this instant!” Lydia exclaimed, breathless from running up the stairs. She started rummaging through the dresses hanging on the screen and chose a dark green one that looked particularly pleasing with Elizabeth’s complexion. “This one.” She tossed it at Elizabeth, who only looked at her in puzzlement, unmoving.
“What is the matter?” Elizabeth asked. “I told Jane to alert the family that I would not be down to breakfast.”
“Mr Darcy is here to see you!” Lydia burst forth. “You cannot refuse him. He is your fiancé!”
“Former fiancé. We are not engaged anymore,” Elizabeth corrected. Even so, her heart began to beat wildly at the thought of Mr Darcy being so near. She stood up and put her book aside, pacing in front of the mirror. “Why has he come?”
