“Who came to call?” Elizabeth asked. She was still in a borrowed dressing gown, waiting for her own clothes to arrive from Hunsford. She refused to wear any of the clothes she had worn since Friday, no matter how often her aunt said they could be cleaned.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam returned to see how you were,” Jane said, sitting at the toilette table. “I told him you were resting and not up to company yet. He stayed longer than he did yesterday and told us a little more about how he recovered you and MrDarcy.” Jane gave her such a pitying look that Elizabeth had to look away. “You must have been terrified, my dear Lizzy. I can picture you huddled in that chaise wondering if you would be rescued or killed.”
“I am well now that I am home with all of you.”
Yesterday, Elizabeth could not keep down tears as she caught a glimpse of those dear faces. She was certain she had not been intelligible in explaining what had happened, but between the tears and hugs and her garbled words and Colonel Fitzwilliam’s explanations, her family understood broadly what had happened.
“I think Colonel Fitzwilliam was disappointed not to see for himself how you were, but he understood you not being ready for visitors.”
It was true she did not want to be asked about her ordeal, but if Darcy called when he returned to town, she would run downstairs in her dressing gown. He was the only person who could know what being abducted could truly be like. “It was kind of him to come in person to wish me well.”
“He feels dreadful that everyone at Hunsford assumed you had eloped with Mr Darcy. We did not even know you were missing until Charlotte sent a messenger very early on Sunday morning.” Jane turned away, but in the mirror’s reflection, Elizabeth could see she was hiding tears. “To think since Friday morning you had been captured by those horrid people!”
Elizabeth smiled wryly. “Lady Catherine thought I had eloped with her nephew, and she must not have wanted that to get abroad after she had been so vocal about Mr Darcy marrying her daughter.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam hinted that Charlotte had defied this Lady Catherine in informing us at all that you were abducted. He implied her ladyship had an involvement with these criminals.”
It would all come to light if Darcy followed through on his intentions to implicate his aunt when he informed the magistrate about what had happened. She sighed over how distressing it would be for him.
“Do you want to talk about any of it?” Jane asked gently.
She had already told her aunt and uncle and sister about the salient facts. Somehow, she knew telling Jane that a brute of a man had struck her across the face with the back of his hand and that she was under constant threat of being assaulted would not make her feel better. It was bad enough to see the rage and helplessness in Darcy’s eyes every time she was harmed. To see the same feelings as well as pity in Jane’s eyes would be unbearable.
“Not now,” she whispered. Jane’s sensibilities were too fragile to not display her horrified reactions to whatever Elizabeth said.
Jane nodded knowingly. “Shall my aunt write to my mother for you? Longbourn does not even know you are here, let alone that you were ever missing. By the time we had any sense of what we might do or if my uncle was needed in Kent, another rider came from Charlotte saying that Colonel Fitzwilliam was on his way to retrieve you.”
“My aunt can write. I am not ready to put it all to paper any more than I am to talk about it.”
“Of course,” Jane murmured. “In a day or so we can go home. I am sure Sir William would understand and send for Maria himself in May.”
Elizabeth started. Going home would put her in the face of her mother’s fretting, her father’s teasing, Lydia’s curiosity, and endless talk in her neighbourhood about her abduction. “No, I will find no comfort at Longbourn.”
Jane could not hide her surprise. “Do you not want to be amongst your family at such a time?”
“You and my aunt and uncle are what I need right now.”
Returning home would also put her in the company of Wickham, and the thought turned her stomach. What other lies might he spread in Meryton, and what other debts would he accrue? What other young lady might he hurt?
“Jane,” she began hesitatingly, “I talked a great deal with Mr Darcy. I know him so much better now. We talked about, well, about our families and our likes and dislikes, and, and how I misunderstood him, and how he realised how wrongly he had been acting—but he always had good principles—and…”
Elizabeth could tell by Jane’s expression that she was not making sense. She took a deep breath and then spoke of everything she had read in Darcy’s letter as far as it concerned Wickham. All the rest of what she and Darcy had spoken of felt impossible to talk about. Elizabeth was sensible that nothing less than a perfect understanding between Jane and Bingley could justify her in explaining Darcy’s interference and Bingley’s swift abandonment. She was certain Darcy would send Bingley back to Jane as soon as he could.
And how could she speak of all that had happened between her and Darcy from Thursday night to Sunday morning? That Darcy had proposed and how badly he had delivered his sentiments. And how she not only now saw him in a more amiable light, but that she hoped he would propose again. That she had fallen in love with him, shared a bed with him, and had hurt him deeply by implying that she trusted Wickham more than him.
“Wickham so very bad! It is almost past belief.” Jane sighed over it. “And poor Mr Darcy, having to relate such a thing of his sister! I am amazed that he confessed it.”
He would not have if Darcy had not been in love with her and wanted to preserve her from an immoral man. He would not have if he had not proposed and she had not thrown unjustaccusations at him in return. She felt mortified all over again for what she had demanded of Darcy yesterday. She had known Wickham was a subject that distressed him, and she had gone about it all wrong.
He must have felt so betrayed.
All she could do was shrug and say, “An experience like ours must naturally lead to some friendship.” She was eager to change the subject. “I ought to make our acquaintance in general understand Wickham’s character.”
Jane paused a little and then said, “Surely there can be no occasion for exposing him so dreadfully.”
“Jane, he is a wicked man, and liable to do harm. I have suffered at the hands of evil men who might never be arrested for their crimes.” She strove to keep her voice steady. “But I can have some control over this. I can make everyone in Meryton distrust Wickham. I do not have permission to relate anything about Miss Darcy, but I can write to my mother about all the rest, his lies, his debt. And I can hint that I have it on good authority that his character is lacking and he ought not to be trusted amongst the young ladies of the neighbourhood. My father might not take any action, but you know that my mother will spread news of it throughout the county.”
Her sister agreed. “You know,” Jane added, “I never thought Mr Darcy so deficient in all goodness as you did. I hope you did not quarrel while you were together. A lot of your criticism of him was wholly undeserved, if what he said of Wickham was true.”
