“Pray, excuse me for a moment,” she murmured.
She might have saved her breath—neither of them looked up in acknowledgement. So she hurried out and ascended to herchambers. With trembling hands, she shut the door, locked it, and stumbled to her bed. Collapsing upon it, she curled to her side and stared blankly at the wall, her thoughts whirling.
Never to return?she repeated silently. Why? He had given every indication that he would offer for her. She had expected a courtship. Yet, now he was gone.Perhaps his friend was mistaken,she reasoned. Was Mr. Darcy not an honorable man? Surely, he could not raise a lady’s expectations and then abandon her. That would be dishonorable and ungentlemanly.
Perhaps I do not mean as much to him as he does to me.
The thought stung, and her mind slid toward despair. She forced herself to reject it.He will return,she told herself firmly.He will come back to me.
December 24, 1811
Longbourn
Elizabeth
Mr. Bingley’s sisters remained in town. Jane learned he had scolded them thoroughly for attempting to interfere in his life. They, in turn, declared they would have nothing to do with so low-born a lady. If he married Miss Bennet, they said, then they would be compelled to distance themselves.
“I reminded them that they are the daughters of a tradesman, and as such, Miss Bennet is higher placed in society than they are. Caroline did not like that one jot.” He chuckled, and the others joined in.
Elizabeth wondered how long Mr. Bingley’s sisters would maintain the estrangement. Their brother remained their connection to the first circles, owing to his friendship with Mr. Darcy.
Thoughts of that gentleman often crept in when least expected, and Elizabeth fought valiantly to keep them at bay. She succeeded during the day, for the most part, but her memories coalesced into dreams at night. His beloved countenance haunted her, and in sleep, her mind conjured all manner of reasons for his abandonment.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner arrived on Christmas Eve, and everyone promptly donned their warmest clothing to venture outdoors in search of greenery. The Gardiner children were divided among the adults, and each group wandered off in different directions.
“Hurry up, Lizzy!” Lydia tugged on Elizabeth’s hand, pulling her deeper into the trees. “I see some mistletoe over there!” Her younger sister adored Christmas. Lydia was often selfish, but the season brought out the best in her. She had begun the tradition of gift-giving when she was only eight, always choosing with care. No one ever felt disappointment when opening something from the youngest Bennet. Still vain and foolish, she often purchased a fine gift for herself as well.
Elizabeth followed half-heartedly. She had no desire to participate in the festivities. Mr. Darcy had not returned. With each passing day, her hopes dwindled further. Jane’s felicity only deepened her own low spirits. No one appeared to notice, save Mary, who would now and again touch Elizabeth’s arm and offer a sympathetic look. Not even Jane knew of Elizabeth’s hopes, so she kept her feelings to herself, unwilling to cloud her sister’s happiness with the weight of her own misery.
“Help me up!” Lydia reached toward the lowest tree branch, which was only an inch or two out of her reach. “There is enoughhere to make several kissing boughs! I shall have a kiss from Denny—you wait and see!”
Rather than rebuke Lydia about the impropriety of her remark, Elizabeth laced her fingers together and offered her a step. Lydia clambered onto the lower branch and began stripping mistletoe, dropping it to the ground as she worked. Elizabeth gathered the fallen sprigs into both her basket and her sister’s.
Lydia lowered herself back down, Elizabeth wrapped her arms about her waist, steadying her until both her feet touched the ground.
“Look at our baskets!” she crowed triumphantly. “I am certain Kitty will not have found half so much. Where shall we put the boughs, Lizzy? One in the parlor, one in the drawing room. Do you think the dining room is a good spot?”
“I hardly know, Lydia,” she replied wearily. “Shall we look for some other greenery now?”
Lydia agreed and skipped off. Elizabeth watched her go, struck by how very young her sister appeared in that moment. Fifteen was such a tender, difficult age.If only Lydia knew how blessed she was to be so young and unburdened by love.
Shaking off the morose thoughts for what seemed the hundredth time that afternoon, she picked up both baskets and followed.
Later, they adorned Longbourn with their collected greenery and yards of ribbon. Candles lit every surface, and when all were aflame, the atmosphere transformed into something nearly magical. The children chattered excitedly about the coming feast and the parlor games they would play. Elizabeth watched it all with a sense of detachment.
Is this what heartbreak feels like?If so, she wished she had never known love. Papa always jested that ladies liked to be crossed in love now and then. Elizabeth was not so certain sheagreed. If the end result was this heavy, oppressive sorrow, then she would have gladly done without it.
Her thoughts drifted again as she watched her young cousins dancing around the room. The Gardiners’ eldest daughter sat with Lydia, painstakingly tying mistletoe to gilt hoops. White berries stood in stark contrast to the green leaves and bright red ribbons. The result was quite pretty. A sudden image of Mr. Darcy reaching up and plucking a berry while gazing deeply into her eyes filled Elizabeth’s mind. She blinked rapidly to dispel the tears that threatened to spill.
“You have been very quiet this evening.” Mrs. Madeline Gardiner, Elizabeth’s favorite aunt, joined her on the settee. “Tell me, what occupies your thoughts?”
“’Tis nothing,” Elizabeth replied, hoping to forestall her aunt’s further inquiry. “I am not in the mood for festivities—that is all.”
“Lizzy, you must be honest with me, my dear, or I shall be unable to help you.”
“You cannot help, Aunt. My state of mind depends upon another, and you hold no power over him.” Elizabeth’s shoulders drooped as she battled the tears that threatened.
Mrs. Gardiner patted her knee. “Ah, so it is a gentleman. Who is it? Do not tell me you pine for Mr. Bingley—he is utterly besotted with your sister.”
