I waited for Wickham to appear and when he did, I cast him out, threatening him to never breathe a word of the elopement and forbidding him from speaking her name. He disappeared and I did not see him again until that day in Meryton.
You may have believed that my actions drove him to become a thief, but I assure you that he began his escapades long ago. I am sorry he came to such an end.
After all this, I must tell you again that I ardently admire and love you. Though my eyes have now been opened to your true sentiments, I cannot but believe that I will one day own your heart as you own mine. Allow me to prove that I am a man you can love.
Yours,
F.D.
Elizabeth closed the letter and choked back a sob.He has gone, she thought to herself.How am I to make amends now?Her heart ached, and she wiped away tears that had wet her cheeks.
There was nothing for it. Darcy had left. She would have to make do until he came back. When that would be, she did not know. Had he really been called away, or had he gone to Wiltshire on the misapprehension that she did not wish for his company?
After spending time in reflection, she determined to write a reply to his letter, only to realize that she did not have a direction to send it. Thankfully, Mrs. Reynolds supplied the information, and Elizabeth decided that her reply should wait until the morrow. Instead, she left her room and went in search of Jane.
She found her sister in the orangery. This part of the house had been sadly neglected for years, and Elizabeth felt excited at the thought of breathing new life into it. Jane stood by one wall of glass, staring at the clouds that gathered in the sky outside.
“It looks as if it will rain,” she said casually. Her arms were wrapped around her stomach, and her serene expression tensed around her eyes.
Elizabeth nodded, saying nothing.
“They have gone.” Jane’s words fell flat and expressionless, but Elizabeth noted her hands tightening on her stomach.
“Darcy left, too,” Elizabeth confessed.
Jane turned to her. “Why? What has happened?”
She turned away, moving to a discarded stool and sitting heavily upon it. “We quarreled. About you, about our family, about Wickham… he knows I do not love him.”
Jane turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow. “You still do not love him? Do you admire him?”
Elizabeth considered her words. “Yes, I do admire him. I like him. I enjoy spending time with him and being in his presence. I love when his humor emerges and when he tugs on my curls.”
“But your heart is not touched?”
She shook her head. “I do not know! What does love feel like? I love you and I love Georgiana, but what I feel for my husband does not feel like that.”
“Love of a spouse is not the same as loving a sister, or an aunt, or an uncle—or even a father.” Jane smiled sadly. “I did not feel for Mr. Collins what I feel for you. In fact, though I grew fond of him, that sentiment was akin to what I might feel for a child or a pet.” She laughed hollowly. “Is that not terrible of me to say? What I felt for Mr. Bingley, on the other hand…” She sighed, turning back toward the window. “That love I still feel. It is constant. It is warmth, light, hope, and joy. And yet I feel as if I have been parted from those sentiments and from him forever.”
Jane briefly explained the nature of her conversation with Mr. Bingley earlier that morning. “So, you see, Lizzy, if he cannot prove to me that he is his own man, I cannot marry him.”
“I think he will surprise you,” Elizabeth said slowly. “He knew regret when he learned of your marriage. Give him a chance to show you he has changed.”
“He will have plenty of time. I am in mourning until next June.” Jane moved away from the window, coming towardElizabeth. “What will you do? You cannot leave things as they are.”
“I will write to my husband. You know that I am not built for sadness and discontent. I must attempt to make amends. I made him believe that I regret marrying him, and I must correct the misconception.”
“Then you do care for him?” Jane probed.
“Yes. I do. I do not know if I love him yet, but I hold him in high esteem. And I donotregret marrying him, despite all that has occurred.” Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself, seeking neither comfort nor warmth. She merely wished for security, and with things so unsettled between her and Darcy, she did not think it likely she would find it.I miss him, she realized suddenly.
“You have a more solid foundation for happiness than I began with, then.” Jane smiled. “Now, I am tired. I did not sleep well and wish to have a rest before luncheon.”
Elizabeth nodded and stood. “I believe I, too, have things to see to.” They departed together, Jane to her chambers and Elizabeth elsewhere.
The next morning, after she felt composed enough, she sat down to write a letter to her husband. She wished with all her heart that he was here so she could tell him what she felt in person, but he was not, and she did not know when he would return.
Dear Fitzwilliam,
