“Oh, Jane!” said Mary, radiating ecclesiastical reproach.
“Ignore her, Jane,” Kitty advised. “She is only saying it because, if you are not with child, she will have to give me back my bonnet.”
“I am not lying!” Lydia complained. “I know what I heard. Jane was talking about shining Lizzy down!”
“Turn around and be quiet, girl!” Mrs Bennet screeched. “Jane is not to be distressed.”
“Mother!”
“Charles, for heaven’s sake, do something!” Miss Bingley hissed, probably wishing her search for egress had been more fruitful.
Mr Bennet fancied she would have more luck requestingassistance from the potted plant next to which her brother was standing, provided he did not swoon into it first, which at present appeared to be a distinct possibility. He turned to share the observation with his second eldest child, and it was then he truly appreciated that he had lost his Lizzy to her successor, Mrs Darcy. She neither laughed at nor joined in nor censured her sisters’ squabbling. Instead, she rose to her feet, accepted her husband’s arm, and without another word, walked calmly from the room—showing Miss Bingley how simple a thing it could be.
Sunday 4 October 1812, Hertfordshire
Jane did not attend church the next morning. Neither did she come down from her room when the rest of the party returned. She sent her excuses at dinner. Afterwards, when Miss Bingley remarked that she hoped Jane soon recovered from her sudden illness, Elizabeth could no longer restrain her vexation.
“This is absurd!” she hissed under her breath to Darcy. “Jane is not unwell. She is sulking. She will be complaining of her nerves and calling for salts next!”
“It is as well that she remains upstairs. I would not spend another evening watching you pace the floor in agitation because your sister cannot keep a civil tongue.”
“No. I beg your pardon, but I can go no longer without hearing what she has to say for herself.” Before Darcy could object, she made her apologies to Mr and Miss Bingley and marched up the stairs to Jane’s room.
There was a long pause after her knock, long enough to afford reason a little latitude over her pique. Her affront notwithstanding, she knew something must be very wrong for Jane to behave in such a way—and she had learnt the hard way the imprudence of hurling charges in anger, before being in possession of all the particulars. By the time Jane reluctantly enquired who knocked, Elizabeth had her temper under far better regulation. “’Tis I, Jane. May I come in?”
A flash of livery and the sound of whispering at the far end of the passageway decided her. She would not stand begging for all the staff to see. She pushed open the door and entered. Her sister sat at her dressing table, unmoving. “Jane, please turn around. I would talk to you.”
“I am not feeling well,” she replied, her voice distant and severe. “Can it not wait?”
“It would have to wait a good while, for I am leaving tomorrow, and I shall not see you again for many months.”
Jane made no answer.
“That is your wish, then?”
Silence.
Elizabeth bit back an angry remark, determined to remain composed. “I do not wish it, Jane. I do not wish for us to continue in this way. I miss you.”
Her entreaty was met with more silence, though she saw in her sister’s shifting carriage that she was not unaffected. She took a few steps nearer. “Will you not speak to me?”
She would not, apparently.
“Very well. If you will not, then I shall. I do not wish to believe what Lydia claimed you said of me, but your behaviour of late makes it impossible to discredit.”
She did not deny it.
“Will you not tell me why you are in such a rage to shine me down?”
Naught but the sound of forced breathing.
“There was never any competition between us before. Why should it matter to you now which one of us is liked best? I assure you it does not matter to me if only we could like each other!” Elizabeth had never known Jane to be so cold. Still, she did not speak or turn to face her. Ever more certain the struggle was lost, she made one last heartfelt attempt. “I would not be on bad terms with you, Jane, especially now. Pray, let us not be at odds at what will be such a special time for both of us.”
Jane stiffened and turned her head very slightly as though to ensure she had heard properly. “Both?”
“Aye. For I am with child also.”
There was the longest pause, and then, “Get out.”
