When the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room after supper, Elizabeth knew it was time to make her announcement. She cleared her throat and called for attention. “My dear friends, I have some news,” she began. Everyone quieted.
Elizabeth took a deep, steadying breath. She must not allow her voice to quake and give away how nervous and guilty she felt. “I must visit my family in Meryton. Much as I have tried to remain strong during my separation from my mother and sisters, I can do so no longer. My mother has written, most gently, to urge me to visit when I can. You will think me very foolish, I am sure, but her letter has struck me to the heart. I have decided I must leave to see them as soon as I am able to arrange transport.”
Miss Darcy’s face fell. Mrs Gardiner looked astonished, and Mr Darcy frowned. “So suddenly?” Mr Bingley asked. “Has something happened, Miss Bennet? I hope your family is well.”
“Oh, yes, thank you. They are all well. It is only the pain of a year’s separation. I cannot bring myself to wait any longer before seeing them, but I have no reason to suspect anything amiss. It is only my own — whim, I suppose you might call it. But despite the foolishness of leaving so pleasant a party, I find I cannot do otherwise.” She risked a glance in Mr Darcy’s direction. He looked more disappointed than suspicious.
Miss Bingley beamed at her from across the sitting area. “Well, we shall miss your presence and scintillating conversation.”
Elizabeth acknowledged the hit scored with a nod. A weight settled on her chest. Miss Bingley had won, though victory might not be all she had dreamed. Was she naïve to think Mr Darcy too wise to fall for so scheming a woman?
Perhaps so. Miss Bingley would have a clear field to work now, and if Mr Darcy fell under her spell, he would not be the first man to be fooled by a pretty and ambitious woman.
Pemberley would not thrive under such a mistress. Miss Bingley was too ambitious to value Mr Darcy’s real virtues as she ought, and too self-satisfied to understand Georgiana’s soft heart, how she grew wiser day by day. She would speak down to Mrs Reynolds, whom she ought to value for the great treasure of her long years of experience and loyalty, and offend every portrait in the gallery hall by calling for renovations and improvements which were no improvements at all.
If, of course, she became Mrs Darcy. Elizabeth could only hope that day would never come to pass. She did not think it was only a wish not to be outdone that made her think it would be a dark day indeed.
“Are you certain you must leave immediately?” Mr Darcy asked her with concern. “This is so sudden.”
“I am afraid so.”
He nodded slowly and walked over to join her on her side of the hearth. “If it must be, it must be, but you cannot take the public stage. I will not hear of it,” he said.
“I believe I must.”
“No, indeed you must not. I shall send you in my coach, with a maid for your comfort and a manservant for safety. You must allow me this, at least. I will not take any argument.”
There was no room for her to argue, given his tone. Nor did Elizabeth really wish to. She would arrive home much sooner if she could take his private coach, and thus disentangle herself that much more expediently.
That was all perfectly logical. Only it did not touch the lump rapidly forming in her throat.
Oh, wonderful, Mr Darcy. I can be more of a burden to you than ever, at the very moment I am lying to your face.
“I thank you,” Elizabeth said. “You have been so kind to me and all my family. This summer has given me much joy.”
“As it has for us,” Mr Darcy replied. “Pemberley will be much changed with you gone.”
She sensed rather than saw Miss Bingley’s eyes boring into her from across the room. Elizabeth looked up at her, and Miss Bingley gave a triumphant smile. Tears stung, threatening to spill onto her cheeks.
Elizabeth turned back to Mr Darcy. “It is for the best. My aunt and cousins will soon return to London and the new house. I must give my mother a little of my time before I join them.”
“She must miss you very much,” Mr Darcy said softly. He turned so that his body shielded her face, making her heart pound. “I hope you will write to my sister once you are settled in Meryton? She greatly values your friendship.”
Elizabeth nodded and tried to give a weak smile. “As I value hers. Of course, I will write.”
He bowed, then turned to leave.
Yet even then, Mr Darcy hesitated. Elizabeth looked at him, hating herself for being unable to give up hope, even now. How could she still believe that he might care for her, that there could be any kind of future for them? She would leave tomorrow, and she would never see him again.
Mr Darcy turned and joined the rest of the party, and while Elizabeth wished she could enjoy her last evening at Pemberley, her head ached too painfully to make the attempt. She excused herself as soon as she could escape her aunt’s questions and went upstairs to pack her things.
She halted at the drawing room door one last time to watch the assembled company, a little subdued from her announcement, but still talking pleasantly. Only Mr Darcy stood a little aloof. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, she thought of telling him the truth. But it was futile. She turned and left the room, hurrying to her guest suite.
Much as she loved this place, the worst part of leaving Pemberley would be the pain of being separated from Mr Darcy.
Elizabeth climbed the stairs to her room and closed the door, locking it behind her this time. She let the tears spill onto her cheeks then. She knew now that she loved Mr Darcy. But she also knew that her love was hopeless. Even if she were merely a penniless gentlewoman and not a notorious novelist, she would be much too far below him in consequence to consider. With an effort, Elizabeth pushed herself away from the door and forced herself to finish her preparations. She flung her manuscript into her trunk and tidied the writing desk that Miss Darcy had been so good as to stock for her. Her friends had been so kind, and this was how she repaid them, by running away?
She wiped furiously at the tears streaming down her face. There was nothing to be done but to do as Miss Bingley demanded. Vicious as she was, Caroline Bingley would certainly carry through with her threats if Elizabeth did not do what she asked. This was the price she must pay for being a working woman, for trying to do right by her family. She looked down at the treacherous manuscript, wishing for the first time that she had never picked up her pen.
