Jane’s answering smile was warm, but her gaze shifted ahead, where Mr Collins walked, occasionally glancing to where Mary kept pace beside him with quiet determination.
“Lizzy,” Jane said, lowering her voice, “do you think Mary is… being too forwards? She spoke only with our cousin at breakfast, and now she follows him so closely.”
Elizabeth felt her lips press together, the familiar mix of guilt and frustration settling in her chest. “She is determined,” she said carefully.
Jane’s brow furrowed, her concern clear. “But we barely know him, and—”
“I know.” Elizabeth’s voice was gentle, but firm. “And you are right to be concerned, dearest. But—” She stopped, biting her lip as she looked at Jane’s kind, open face, wishing she could pour out the worry and fear that gnawed at her heart every day.
They both knew, though neither of them would say it aloud, how precarious their situation was. Their cousin, with all his pompous manners and absurd speeches, would inherit Longbourn one day should the worst befall Tommy. Many children did not live to adulthood. Besides, if Mary wished to secure a future for herself—and for all of them—then perhaps her determination was not so ill-advised.
Elizabeth forced herself to speak, the words tasting bitter despite her calm tone. “It may be…prudent…for Mary to…attach herself to Mr Collins. He is a smart choice—our sister would do well as a parson's wife.”
Jane glanced at her, eyes wide with quiet distress, her lips parting as if to protest, but she fell silent, understanding without the need for explanation.
Elizabeth looked away, her gaze fixed on the distant outline of Meryton, the rooftops peeking above the trees. Guilt pressed heavily against her ribs, tightening around her lungs until she had to draw a careful, steady breath. She longed to confide in Jane, to share the fear that tangled with her every thought of the future, to admit how desperately she wished for something different, something better for them all.
She imagined telling Jane everything: how she despised the idea of her sister tying herself to a man she barely knew, how the thought of security warred with the dream of love and independence. How the fear of exposure and scandal, of losing Longbourn, and of watching her sisters shunned by their neighbors, kept her awake at night.
But she could not. She could not burden Jane with that fear.
A face flashed through her mind, dark, proud, and impossibly solemn. Mr Darcy. Elizabeth blinked, her steps faltering for just a moment. The idea of confiding in him, of unburdening her fears to the man who may have the means of ruining her family’s life forever, was ludicrous.
She shook her head, a humourless smile tugging at her lips. Mr Darcy was the last man in the world she should tell.
“Lizzy?” Jane’s hand slipped into hers, warm and comforting.
Elizabeth squeezed it gently, offering a smile she hoped was reassuring. “It will all work out, Jane. It must.”
They continued on towards Meryton, the crisp air carrying the scent of distant chimney smoke and the faint promise of ginger biscuits from the shops. Ahead of them, Mary’s earnest voice drifted back as she attempted to engage Mr Collins in conversation about the latest sermon she had read. Her words were met with his sensible, quiet replies.
Elizabeth’s heart tightened, but she lifted her chin and walked on, determined, as always, to face whatever was to come.
Meryton was lively that morning, the market square bustling with the cheerful clatter of carts and the calls of vendors hawking ribbons, buttons, and sugared almonds. Elizabeth and Jane walked arm in arm, their bonnets tilted against the pale autumn sun as they made their way past the rows of stalls, having promised Kitty and Lydia they would find them the prettiest ribbons the market town could offer.
Near the confectioner’s shop, they came upon a small cluster of officers in bright uniforms, laughing and talking with some of the local ladies. One of them, a familiar, friendly face, noticed Elizabeth and Jane immediately.
“Miss Bennet! Miss Elizabeth!” Mr Denny called, stepping forwards with an eager smile. “What a pleasant surprise to meet you here this morning.”
Elizabeth returned his smile warmly. “Good morning, Mr Denny.”
“I must introduce you to my friend,” Denny said, turning to the man beside him. “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, allow me to present Mr Wickham. He has only just arrived in Meryton.”
Mr Wickham’s smile was charming, easy, and warm as he bowed. “It is an honour, ladies.”
Denny continued, “I am determined to convince him to join our militia here, though he claims he is still undecided.”
Elizabeth’s curiosity sparked. “Have you been long in the area, Mr Wickham?”
“Only a few days, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied, his voice pleasant and easy. “I have been traveling for some time, seeking a situation to suit, and Meryton has proven to be… promising.”
“And are you from this part of England?” Elizabeth asked, her interest piqued by the new arrival.
Wickham’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “No, I was raised in the north.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows rose, but before she could ask more, Wickham’s gaze flickered over her shoulder, and a shadow passed across his features. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his previous pleasant expression, but she noticed it.
“I beg your pardon,” Mr Wickham said suddenly, glancing down the street. “I have just recalled I left something of import at the inn. Please excuse me, ladies. Denny, I shall speak with you later.” His bow was polite, but there was a hint of haste as he turned away.
