Public exposure,thought Caroline. Yes, none of them would wish that, would they? They might do all manner of things to avoid that.
IT WAS Arelief, Elizabeth felt, to have everything discovered, no more mysteries to probe, nothing to solve. Everything was known now, and she was having her bleeding, and there was no more reason to have clandestine meetings with Mr. Darcy.
Which was a relief.
Really, it was, because she did not know what to do with the feelings and sensations she had around the man or to navigate the strange well of longing that welled up within her when she thought of sitting on her bed with his arm around her, her cheek pressed against his chest…
Anyway, it was best to stop thinking about that and to stop thinking about Mr. Darcy entirely.
They had one conversation about it, on the periphery of what was a lackluster game of bowls, for there were few participants, in hushed voices. She apprised him of what she knew about Mr. Houseman, and he said he was pleased to have that final piece of the puzzle, and then they said to each other that they had no reason to associate with each other in private. She said it; he readily agreed.
He said it was better this way.
She said it absolutely was.
And then they didn’t speak again, not really. Sometimes, they spoke to each other in passing, but they did not seek each other out. He spent his time with Georgiana. She spent her time with Jane.
Neithern didn’t come back, since he had seen that it was not intelligent for him to be spending time near Mr. Houseman, and this only confirmed for Georgiana that the man had never been interested in her. When Georgiana was not with her brother, she was with Caroline Bingley. The two sulked together on the outskirts of whatever activity was planned.
But Mr. Darcy’s predictions had proved accurate.
The boisterousness of the gathering had deflated. Many of the guests had departed. Not all at once, but in little trickles, here and there, taking their leave. What was left was a company of people who were much more likely to engage in staid behavior all day and to go to bed at a typical time.
The primary way that everyone was occupying themselves was to be preparing for the masque at Neith Abbey.
The time to the ball passed both slowly and quickly, Elizabeth found. She and Jane worked together on making their own masks, as they had not brought anything with them. At balls of this kind, there was less emphasis on there being a costume than a mask, but Elizabeth wanted her mask to be representative of something and Jane agreed. They both decided to make their masks to look like butterflies, even though this was slightly a strange choice, for butterfly wings are not the sort of things that go over faces, typically.
But the two spent their time diligently sewing and crafting the butterfly masks, sewing in whatever bits of glittery frippery they could find. It was a good way to occupy themselves.
Letters came from both their families at home and from the Gardiners on Gracechurch Street, and news of Elizabeth’s marriage had reached both places. It was rumored only, of course, and they begged Elizabeth to confirm or deny the gossip.
Elizabeth and Jane discussed what to do. Jane said that Elizabeth had hidden this for too long and for no good reason,and Elizabeth knew this was true, but she also didn’t wish to tell anyone about it, either.
She had to admit that it was because some part of her regretted the marriage. She admitted this to herself, and then she might have said it aloud, to Jane, which shealsoregretted, immediately.
“You don’t wish to be married to him?” said Jane. “Lizzy, I knew I should have protested harder when you were climbing out that window!”
“It’s not that I don’t wish to be married to him,” said Elizabeth, trying hard to know how to explain herself.
“That is what you have just said.”
“It is that I wish I had a different sort of marriage, I suppose,” said Elizabeth. “But I have this one, and I must come to terms with it.”
“What sort of marriage do you wish you had?”
“One in which I could trust my husband, I suppose,” said Elizabeth. “One in which I felt as if we had true regard for each other, not simply…”
“Not simply what?”
Lust. “Shallow attachment,” she said. “I know he took personal risk to marry me at all. I know his family won’t approve. And I know—”
“That doesn’t sound like shallow attachment,” said Jane.
“Yes, but I think he only wanted…”
“What?”
Elizabeth sighed.
