Elizabeth wished for happiness in her marriage. Indeed, she believed whole-heartedly that such was possible, and that she and Darcy were very near to achieving that state.Our arguments seem so inconsequential when they are over,she thought.
She must apologize and make it right with him. Despite his officious interference, she had grown to care for him. She could not leave things as they were.
Dinner was a tense affair. Miss Bingley rambled on and on about London, their journey north, and the latest fashions. Mrs. Hurst spoke to her husband in hushed tones. The rest of the party was largely silent. Georgiana had dined in her chamberswith Mrs. Annesley. Jane had dined upstairs, too, leaving Elizabeth alone on the field of battle.
Mr. Bingley spoke kindly to her at one end of the table, though her attention was divided between him and watching her sullen husband at the other end. After the meal, Elizabeth claimed a very real headache and begged her guests to forgive her for leaving them for the rest of the evening.
“It is no trouble, Mrs. Darcy,” Miss Bingley simpered. “We will keep your husband company. We are old friends, after all. But I must say, I did not expect a hardy country girl to succumb to something so trifling as a headache. Do they occur often?” Her saccharine smile churned Elizabeth’s stomach.
“I assure you, Miss Bingley, that my wife is the picture of health. If you wish only to speak vitriol, please keep your remarks to the weather.” Darcy’s jaw tensed, and he frowned in displeasure.
Her husband’s defense surprised her, and she gave him an appreciative smile. He did not see it, faced as he was toward his—theirguests.
She retired directly, dressing for bed and crawling under her coverlet. She pulled the curtains around the bed for extra darkness and closed her eyes, praying that tomorrow would be a better day.
Jane
Despite a restless night, Jane rose early, leaving the house to stroll the gardens. Pemberley had provided her peace when she needed it, but now that feeling felt illusive. Hand resting uponher stomach, she walked beneath the roses that climbed a trellis over the pathway. She came to a bench that faced east and sat, waiting for the sunrise.
“Mrs. Collins.” His salutation startled her, and she whirled to face him.
“Mr. Bingley.” Proud of her neutral voice, she smiled and nodded before returning her gaze to the rising sun.
“May I join you?” he asked.
She shrugged, feigning indifference.
He came toward her and sat on the bench beside her. “Pemberley is lovely during the summer,” he said casually when she did not speak. “I have not seen a sunrise here for some time. I expect it will be as lovely as the last I witnessed.”
“Indeed, sir.”What does he mean by making small talk?She wondered if he had sought her out or encountered her by accident.
He cleared his throat, waiting for her to say more. When she did not, he continued. “Mrs. Collins, I am afraid I must be blunt. I cannot go any longer without knowing your heart.” He paused and fiddled with the button on his jacket. “When I left Netherfield, I fully intended to return. I wished to… well, it makes no difference what I wished then. But I did not abandon you because I felt nothing for you. I allowed myself to be persuaded away and did not follow my own heart. I must ask for your forgiveness.”
“I forgave you long ago, sir,” she replied after a moment’s consideration. And she had. It did no good to hold ill feelings toward him.
“Then may we be candid with each other?”
She nodded at him to continue.
“Why did you marry so soon after I left?”
She turned to look at him, regarding him with a serious expression. “You have no right to know the inner workings ofmy heart,” she said, “but I promised candor, and so I shall give it.” She drew a deep breath and continued. “After you left to see to your business in London, I was full of hopes and dreams. Then, the day after your departure, Miss Bingley sent a note, farewelling me and my family and insisting that you were off to town with no intention to return. She intimated that you would be much in the company of Miss Darcy and that… she said she hoped she would soon be able to call her sister.”
Bingley spluttered and Jane held up her hand to silence him. “Let me finish, sir, for I do not wish to repeat myself. Elizabeth convinced me to wait, you see. She was so certain that Miss Bingley wrote in error. Somehow, my cousin learned that Netherfield had been closed and cornered me in the sitting room at Longbourn. I shall not go into detail, but throughout the course of the interview, I learned pertinent information that pushed me to accept him. As my father is now dead, I am certain you can guess the nature of the knowledge I gained.”
She sighed and reached out, tugging the petals off a hanging rose. “Mr. Collins did not wish to wait. Had you returned, I would have cried off. I did not love my husband.” Her hand rested on her stomach, and she stroked it tenderly. “I do not regret the child I now carry. I already love him or her fiercely.”
“Would that I could turn back time!” Bingley cried. He took her hand, but she pulled it away. “What must I do, Miss—Mrs.Collins? I know you have some time left in mourning, but after…”
Jane smiled gently. “I appreciate your sentiments, sir, though I must decline. You see, one blessing of being Mrs. Collins was that I learned what it means to be tied to a husband whose first loyalty is to another. You relied on your family and friends to know your heart and my feelings when you ought to have given that loyalty tome.I will not marry again if I am not first in my husband’s heart.”
“I love you!” cried Mr. Bingley. “I beg you, give me the chance to prove it.”
“I do not doubt that you love me, sir. I only question whether you love me enough to forsake all others. To cleave unto me as your wife and help meet. Until I know for sure, I could never consider your suit.”
He hung his head, and then his posture straightened with purpose. “I shall prove it to you,” he swore.
“That remains to be seen, sir. I am in mourning for the next year, and so cannot entertain your suit, regardless of whatever decisions you mean to make.”
