“Does my father tease and my mother fret?” Elizabeth asked drily.
“They are as you would expect them to be, but they are both worried about you. My father even added a few lines himself, saying he wants you to come home soon.”
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Is that all he wrote?”
Jane’s face told her there was more. “He also wrote to come home when you can tolerate being noticed by everyone for being kidnapped and living to tell the tale.”
That sounded more like her father’s satirical manner. Longbourn could bring her no peace now, and there was certainly no peace to be had if she left London without speaking with Darcy. She continued to turn his diamond and sapphire ring between her fingers.
“I also must tell you that Mrs Hurst invited us to dine in Grosvenor Street tomorrow. I do not recognise that ring,” Jane said, sitting on the bed and peering at it. “Was it a gift from my aunt?”
Elizabeth carefully set it in a box on her toilette table and shut the lid. “No, it was more like a property from a play. I have to give it back.”
She explained it had been in Darcy’s pocket when they were both kidnapped. “When we fled our captors, we had little money between us. It was late, and we needed to take a room while we awaited rescue…”
“And you could only afford one room, so you used the ring to make it appear as though you were married?”
“We had only eight shillings in our pockets when we each went for a walk on Friday morning.” Truthfully, if they had enough for two rooms, they would not have taken them. Separating from Darcy would have felt impossible.
“It was sensible,” Jane said consolingly, “although hardly the sort of thing to mention in public.”
Elizabeth smirked. How could she say to Jane that she slept better when she was in Darcy’s arms? “Yes, Miss Bingley would be distressed to think I had to pretend to be his wife.”
She was lost in thought, remembering Sunday morning, and it took her a moment to notice Jane staring at her. “What is the matter?”
“It is plain to me that you miss Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth avoided Jane’s perceptive gaze. “Of course I do. There is an affectionate sympathy between us because of what happened.”
“Lizzy, look at me.” She did, with a sigh. “You shared a room while captured, and you shared a bed in an inn with a man you now admire very much.”
She swallowed roughly around the emotion in her throat. “Are you asking if Mr Darcy and I, if we?—”
“No,” Jane said firmly. “I do not want to hear you say it.”
Elizabeth felt the heat of shame creep up her neck. “Because you would judge me harshly?”
Her sister instantly came near and put her arms around her. “No, because if my aunt or mother or father asked me, I would be obliged to answer them.” Jane squeezed her tightly. “I suppose,” she said haltingly, “I would only want to know if, whatever happened, you still judged it the correct choice. Perhaps, in a distressing situation, with heightened emotions…”
Elizabeth laughed. “You think I shared a bed with Darcy because I was afraid and he was there? That there was noaffection involved at all? That he forced me?” It was absurd. She had been eager, and Darcy would rather die than cause her pain.
Jane sat back and looked into her eyes. “I want to be sure you have no regrets.”
She had no regrets aside from she ought to have realised Wickham had lied to her from the moment they met. “I won’t have any if Darcy calls.”
“It is ‘Darcy’, then?” Jane asked with a little smile.
It should be “Fitzwilliam” if they were alone. “We relied on one another in ways no one else could understand. Even if we had not—” She broke off as Jane held up her hand. “Well, I think calling one another Darcy and Elizabeth a natural thing.”
“Of course,” Jane murmured.
“You really will not mention this?” Her sister would keep a confidence, but this matter was unlike any secret she had ever held.
Jane gave a fond smile. “All I know is that you are awaiting a call from Mr Darcy.” After a moment, she added, “I am certain he will do the honourable thing.”
Elizabeth covered her face with her hands. There was no way to find the words that Darcy had offered for her before this horridness and she had said no. “Enough about me,” she said, eager to talk about anyone but herself. “You are likely to get a proposal before I am.”
Jane blushed. “Did Mr Bingley distress you with all of his care and questions?”
