They left the woods, reaching the more formal pathways, the only sound for a few minutes the noise of their boots upon the gravelled track. “I admit to being somewhat curious,” Darcy said at last. “I recall you saying, when you spoke of how your marriage came about, that neither man—not Mr Collins nor Mr Ashwood—cared, particularly, which Bennet sister they wed. How did you both decide who would marry whom?”
“Well…Janeisthe eldest. It seems only right that Longbourn be hers, hers and her children’s.”
“In other words, you gave her the choice.”
“It is not as though there was much choice to give.”
He squeezed her arm, a gesture of comfort. “I realise that. But when your choices narrowed to inches instead of miles, you gave her all that was left. I admire you for it. Your sister is youthful and beautiful and amiable, and Bingley is young, and that is most of what he sees in her. But he is my friend, and if possible, I think I would like him to find a wife whose nature is a more generous one—someone who is more like you.” He stopped on the path, turning to her, cupping her cheeks gently. “Longbournishers, hers and her children’s. She will always be safe there, and that is what she wanted most. You must not ever feel guilty that in making the harder choice, you eventually gained a greater reward.”
He had the power to move her, just when she believed her heart was too full to feel more. “I think I adore you,” she whispered. “How can it be, and so quickly?”
He kissed her, lingering. “I do not know—I only know that it is the same for me. I also know that I am happier than I have ever been, and that every moment spent near you increases it.Canit be that you feel the same, my love?”
“I can,” she said, and he kissed her again, and neither one cared even slightly whether they might be spotted by a passing gardener.
Jane joined them for dinner that evening, and Mr Bingley again gave her every notice and courtesy—not quite flirting, but skating very close to that edge. Mr Collins had not appeared nor sent a note today, which was worrisome only because of their mother’s gloomy predictions. Most of Elizabeth’s own attention was on Darcy, however, simply because most of his was upon her.
He did not try to disguise it, or pretend otherwise. When she entered the room, he went to her; while he said nothing particularly remarkable, and certainly did not publicly demonstrate the affection of the afternoon, his eyes were warm, interested. Miss Bingley noticed at once, her mouth pinching into disapproval. Still, it was obvious that neither she nor Mrs Hurst would say or do anything to earn Mr Darcy’s displeasure; they complimented her dress, a round robe of green velvet with plain gold lace trim around the hem, and Mrs Hurst claimed she had seen one very like it in a recentLa Belle Assemblée. Mr Bingley remained oblivious to anyone except Jane.
When the ladies separated after dinner, the Bingley sisters regaled them with a few lively anecdotes that proved interesting. When the gentlemen joined them, most of their conversation died, their attention centred upon Mr Darcy—watching and waiting, Elizabeth guessed, to see if he would, again, fix most of his interest upon her.
Miss Bingley seemed relieved when he merely greeted them all politely and explained, to the room in general, that he had a rather urgent letter to write to his relations in Kent, and to excuse his lack of conversation. Of course, if only she had realised the object of that letter, she would not have been so sanguine about the attentions of her favourite! Mr Bingley resumed his tête-à-tête with Jane, Mr Hurst dozed, and Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst resumed an earlier debate about some sort of recent fashion, everyone ignoring Elizabeth for the most part, to her relief. Her thoughts were in too much of a whirl to be able to participate in a dispute about sleeves.
She watched everyone, though. Elizabeth saw what Darcy had seen—Jane enjoyed Mr Bingley’s attentiveness, but did not seem to reciprocate any of the feeling behind it. Miss Bingley attempted to finagle a compliment to her gown from Darcy, by means of interrupting his letter-writing a half-dozen times that he might notice its various trims. Elizabeth was left with no great opinion on the dressmaker, but a great deal of respect for the patience of the man she had agreed to marry.
Her evening came to an end when she saw how Jane was tiring, and offered to accompany her upstairs, to which her sister immediately agreed. Darcy gave her a look, only one, when she rose to leave, and murmured a politeness. There was no reason for her blush, and yet, there somehow seemedmore in his look and word than an entire conversation could have produced.
Once ready for bed, Elizabeth made her way across the sitting room they shared to look in on Jane; she appeared pale but comely against her bed linens.
“Do you have everything you need?”
“Oh—yes. Could you talk with me for a moment, before you retire?”
Elizabeth briefly wondered whether Jane might bring up the subject of Mr Darcy’s attentiveness to her earlier in the evening, but soon realised her sister’s thoughts lay in an entirely different direction.
“Mr Collins did not come today. Nor did he send a note,” Jane said, as Elizabeth sat in the chair at her bedside
“Perhaps he will come tomorrow.”
“What did you say to him? Did you make it sound as if I did notwantto see him?”
Elizabeth stopped herself from rolling her eyes, but it was a near thing. “Jane…I believe those were your exact words! No, I did not repeat them to him,per se—I was not rude. But I told him that you needed more time to recover before you could cope with his anxiety for you. It was clear to him, however, without my saying a thing, that you had refused to allow him up.”
A tear trickled down Jane’s cheek, and then another; for perhaps the first time, Elizabeth felt more impatience than sympathy. It was not that Jane blamed her for any of her troubles with Mr Collins—but it was plain that she now wished Elizabeth to take the time to cheer and cajole her, and probably reassure her that none of it was her fault. It was late, and although the day had been wonderful, she wasexhausted. She felt to use a little more bluntness than was her custom.
“Jane, if you wish to see him, why not have a note sent over in the morning, asking him to come? If you are not ready for a visit, send him a different sort of note explaining that while you need more time, you appreciate his letters, or the flowers…or anything about him, really. I am certain he would appreciate either of those gestures.” Finding a handkerchief and handing it to her sister, she stood.
Jane took it and blew her nose. “I do not want him to-to seek out a different woman.”
“Of course you do not. Neither can I imagine him behaving in such a way. Did not he train for the church? I believe his moral standard to be something higher than what Mama credits.”
“Yes. Yes, this is true,” Jane said, her expression brightening. “I shall write to him tomorrow. Thank you, Lizzy. I am sure you are right.”
“I am sure I am, too. I am also very tired, so I am certain you must be as well. Everything will look better in the morning. It almost always does. I will bid you good night.”
Jane appeared slightly startled at this somewhat abrupt leave-taking. Elizabeth could not find it in her heart to care.
23
