Mrs. Bennet continued in this contradictory vein for some time, lamenting her bad luck at having five daughters, with no one willing to lift a finger to help them get married.
“I will fetch you some salts, Mama,” said Jane, the calm in the storm. She tugged at Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her along, up the stairs to the bedchamber they shared.
“As you can see, nothing has changed here. Mama is the same as ever. Mary continues to play the piano badly. Lydia and Kitty continue to complain about the absence of handsome young men to flirt with.”
Elizabeth snorted softly. “What about the smelling salts? Are you not taking any to Mama?”
“She will have forgotten by now.” Jane examined her sister closely. “You do not look well, Lizzy. I hope you have not beenunhappy. I am sorry, Lizzy, for putting so much pressure on you, and I am sorry Mama is being so horrible about it.”
“I feel as if I should be walking around Meryton wearing one of those hats that says in big letters: DUNCE,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps Mama will make one for me.”
She laughed, but the laughter was tinged with bitterness.
“You are not a dunce, Lizzy. Far from it. You were more perceptive than all of us. You told us from the very beginning that Mr. Darcy is an ogre. And so he turned out to be.”
Elizabeth could not continue to paint Mr. Darcy in this way. It was not fair. She owed it to Jane to tell her the truth.
As if she had been waiting for this moment, the floodgates opened, and the whole sorry tale spilled out, interrupted frequently by tears and bouts of sobbing. When she was done, she threw herself on the bed and cried, with Jane sitting by her side, holding her hand.
She cried until her tears dried out and she was too exhausted to continue. Jane went down to request some hot chocolate and carried it up from the kitchen. They sat side by side, drinking it together.
“You will be angry at me Lizzy when I say this,” said Jane, mildly, “but I do not think you are the kind to cry so much because you have been misjudged.”
“I do not understand,” said Elizabeth.
“Lizzy,” Jane hesitated, then added quickly. “I think you must be in love with Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth put her cup down and stared at her sister. “No, that cannot be. I admire him. I think of him often. But to say I am in love—?”
She broke off as the soundness of her sister’s reasoning hit her like a blow. Jane was right. Elizabeth was not the type to dwell on her misfortune. Her disposition was cheery, and she did not cry easily.
There was no escaping it. The truth had been staring at her in the face all along. She had known it, deep inside, for some time, but had not wished to acknowledge it.
She was in love with Mr. Darcy.
One advantage of returning to Longbourn was being able to go on long, meandering walks. Elizabeth reveled in the freedom of walking quickly, something she had missed in Hyde Park, where ladies were expected to move at a snail’s pace. For the first two days after her arrival, she spent much of her time outdoors. She wanted to escape her mother’s accusations, but she also found solace in the tranquility and sweet aroma of the open countryside. It did not make the pain any less, but it soothed her soul.
She would have liked to speak to her father about what had happened but was unable to do so. He was fully occupied with the harvest, and did not even take dinner with the rest of the family. Then, on the third day, when she came in from a blustery walk and was taking off her bonnet, her father called her and invited her into the library.
“I think it is time for you to tell me what happened, Lizzy. I was very particular in my agreement with Mr. Darcy. He was not to insult you in any way. If he has gone back on his word, I need to know of it so I can deal with him.”
She had rarely seen her father so serious.
“Mr. Darcy did not go back on his word, Papa. I will tell you everything, and you can judge for yourself.”
She quickly launched into the story. It was less painful this time, since she had already gone through it with Jane, though she still had to stop twice to wipe her tears on her sleeve.
When she was finished, Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“People never cease to provide me with sources of amusement,” he remarked. “Is this why you have been wandering around like a wet mop for the last week?”
“I know you like to make sport of our neighbors, Papa, but surely you must draw the line at pouring scorn on my misery.”
“When I believed you to be inconsolable, I was willing to commiserate. But now that I know you have brought all this upon yourself, I have the right to be amused to my heart’s content, child.”
She glared at him. “How can you say this is my fault?”
“That is not what I said, Lizzy. I said you brought it upon yourself. It is not like you, Lizzy, to be so helpless. You have the key to your happiness in your hand. Take hold of it and stop moping around the house.”
