“Jane, look.” She gestured toward the gathering crowd alongside the road. Villagers from Meryton and tenant farmers had congregated to watch the procession, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright ghoulish fascination.
“Such a commotion,” Jane observed with a frown. “I had not realized Mr. Darcy’s condition would create such a spectacle.”
The carriage inched forward, bringing them closer to the growing crowd.
“Three shillings says he won’t last the week.”
“Lady Catherine herself has come from Kent. Must be dire indeed.”
“Never would’ve thought proud Mr. Darcy would succumb to Wickham’s bullet. Poetic justice, that.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks burned. How quickly private suffering became public entertainment. She pulled the curtain closed with trembling fingers.
“Driver,” she called, “is there another route to Longbourn we might take?”
“Afraid not, miss. We’ll have to wait our turn.”
Jane squeezed her hand. “It will pass, Lizzy. Such gossip always does.”
“Does it?” Elizabeth turned to her sister, unable to mask her distress. “This is no ordinary gossip, Jane. This is a man’s life reduced to a betting sport.”
She waved her hand at the crowd gathered as if in front of the gallows. The private, dignified man would be mortified to learn he had become the central entertainment of Meryton society.
“He would hate this,” Elizabeth said. “To be the subject of such speculation, such vulgar curiosity. For all his pride, there is a genuine reserve to his nature that shrinks from such attention.”
“As would we all,” Jane said quietly, then hesitated. “Lizzy, do you think… that is, do you believe Mr. Bingley will distance himself from our family now? After what has transpired?”
Elizabeth looked at her sister sharply, seeing the fear Jane tried so hard to conceal. “I do not know. Men of honor sometimes find their principles tested when scandal touches those they claim to care for.”
“Charles has always seemed different,” Jane said, but her voice lacked its usual conviction. “More genuine than others of his circle.”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth replied, though privately she wondered if any gentleman would risk his reputation for women who had fallen so far from grace. “But even genuine affection has limits, Jane. Society’s judgment can be harsh.”
The remainder of their journey passed in agonized silence, each lost in private fears. The familiar outline of Longbourn appeared, drawing a poignant twist from Elizabeth’s heart.
Home. But what awaited a woman shamed by scandal? How could she face her parents’ questions when she could barely comprehend the disaster herself?
The house stood unusually quiet as they approached. No younger sisters’ laughter echoed from the windows. Mercifully, Mary, Kitty, and Lydia were spending the summer months with Mrs. Phillips, learning proper deportment far from the shadow of scandal that now engulfed their family.
Mr. Hill took their bags with subdued efficiency, and the entrance hall lacked its usual bustling energy.
“Your parents are in the drawing room. They’ve been most anxious for news,” Mrs. Hill said in hushed tones.
“Lizzy! Jane!” Mrs. Bennet leaped from her favorite chair. “You have returned. But so soon—surely Mr. Darcy has not—that is, you cannot have left your post while he yet lives?”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but only a choked sound emerged. The memory of Lady Catherine’s fury, the accusations, and the humiliation of being expelled like a common servant overwhelmed her. To her horror, tears began flowing freely down her cheeks.
“Mr. Darcy lives, still,” Jane recovered sufficiently to allay her parents’ fear. “But his aunt, Lady Catherine, arrived and has taken over his medical care.”
“Good heavens,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, crossing to Elizabeth and guiding her to a chair. “What has happened, child? I have never seen you so undone.”
Elizabeth shook her head, unable to articulate the shame and heartache that overwhelmed her. How could she explain Lady Catherine’s tirade, the accusations hurled at her character, or worse—Darcy’s fevered delusions that had only compounded their disgrace?
“Lady Catherine felt it was inappropriate for Elizabeth to continue as Mr. Darcy’s nurse,” Jane explained delicately, sparing her sister the indignity of repeating the cruel words. “She was most insistent that we depart immediately.”
“What are we to do?” Mrs. Bennet asked the question hanging over them like a storm cloud.
Mr. Bennet looked older than Elizabeth had ever seen him, his sardonic armor finally cracked beyond repair. “I confess myself at a complete loss, my dear. We have played our final card and lost.”
