Elizabeth blew out a breath as she reached the bottom of the stairs and turned round again to go back up. He would be at Mrs Hurst’s tonight; perhaps a question about his family would settleher mind. Did he have a cousin, was his sister much younger and shy, did he regret his interference with Jane?
But it was just a coincidence, that was all.
A door across from the landing opened, and Jane looked out. “Lizzy, why are you pacing out here? I am not late, am I?”
“What? Oh, no, you have plenty of time,” Elizabeth reassured her sister and re-entered her room.
Jane inspected her as Elizabeth sat on her bed. “Are you trembling? What is the matter?”
The matter was that she was sinking under a sense of dread and disappointment. “Oh, I am perfectly well.”
Her sister hovered over her, looking concerned. “You do not look well at all.”
She could not admit her fear about F being Mr Darcy, but Jane ought to know what Mr Darcy said to her before he left Gracechurch Street. “Before we go to the Hursts, I must tell you something about Mr Bingley. Mr Darcy knew you were in town and did not tell Mr Bingley because he believed you were indifferent to him. He feared his friend would marry without affection and encouraged him to forget you. He said so to me quietly before he left the other day after I accused him of separating you because he disapproved of our connexions.”
Jane sat slowly on the bed, shaking her head. “I knew Miss Bingley’s role, but how could anyone say I was not fond of Mr Bingley?”
Jane had been deprived also by the low rank and indecorum of her family, but her own placid air had also contributed. Elizabeth took her sister’s hand. “You know I hate to pardon Mr Darcy, but in this case, he thought you did not care for Mr Bingley. Even Charlotte said to me you ought to show a little more of what you felt.”
“But you perceived my regard for him. Why could Mr Bingley not see it for himself, even if Mr Darcy could not?”
“Mr Bingley depended on his friends’ judgment. I think those who do not know your disposition could be uncertain as to your true feelings.” Jane looked terribly distressed, and Elizabeth squeezed her hand and smiled. “So you must make the most of the opportunity you have tonight.”
Jane hung her head. “Everything has gone wrong. There has been so much deception and uncertainty.”
“But it can all be fixed,” Elizabeth cried. “Mr Bingley now knows what his friends did, and he still called in Cheapside and made them come. So show him more of what you feel, and you will be engaged in a fortnight.”
“But can I be happy in accepting a man whose friends are wishing him to marry elsewhere?”
“You must decide for yourself,” said Elizabeth. “And if you find that the misery of disobliging his sisters and friend is more than equivalent to the happiness of being his wife, by all means refuse him.”
“How can you talk so?” said Jane, faintly smiling. “Though their disapprobation should grieve me, I could not hesitate if Mr Bingley shows himself to be constant.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Then I cannot consider your situation with much compassion. Show Mr Bingley more affection than is your wont, and it will spite Mr Darcy to be proven wrong. What a charming evening for us both.”
“Lizzy,” Jane admonished. “Miss Bingley tried to persuade me her brother was indifferent to me, and they all disapprove of me, but I do not blame Mr Darcy so much. He was worried about his friend’s happiness.”
“You are more generous than he deserves, but I can agree that Miss Bingley behaved worse by lying to you.” Elizabeth kept silent on the possibility that if F really was Mr Darcy, then he deeply lamented his error. Miss Bingley showed no such regret. “I still must hate him forever, though.”
Jane stood and took a calming breath, smoothing down the skirt of her gown. “Mr Darcy called on us with his friend. I think he must feel sorry for his part.”
“I suppose it is possible, but I cannot forget what he did to poor Wickham, and he has shown no remorse for that.”
Her uncle’s voice carried through the door to say the carriage was ready. They went down the stairs, Jane with renewed eagerness and Elizabeth with a slower step. It would not be a pleasant evening for her.
She would ask Mr Darcy a question or two to find out if he might be F. He probably would be proud and silent the entire time, above his company and above being pleased. Typically, she did not give herself the trouble of talking or of listening much to him at all, but tonight it would ease her mind—and help keep him from bothering Jane and Bingley.
It was likely just a strange coincidence, and tomorrow she would laugh at herself for even considering they might be one and the same. She pushed from her mind that Mr Darcy’s name was Fitzwilliam.
Chapter Seven
When they repaired to the Hursts’ dining room, Elizabeth watched to see whether Bingley would sit by her sister. On entering, he seemed to hesitate; but Jane looked round and smiled directly at him. Elizabeth caught her aunt’s eye, and they both hid their smiles. Jane could never act by design—she was not Miss Bingley, after all—but perhaps Bingley would be persuaded of Jane’s feelings before the night was out.
As the rest of the men entered, Mr Darcy took the seat across from her. She had not had one favourable impression of him since they met, but as his gaze steadily held hers, it was impossible not to note that he was extremely handsome.
F had described himself as “A young gentleman, tall and slender, dark hair and eyes.” He had not called himself handsome, but Mr Darcy still fit that description. How could she be intrigued by one and loathe the other if they were the same?
Mr Darcy tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow. Elizabeth started and realised he caught her staring. She shook her head, gave a little smile, and did her best to pretend she was only suffering from absence of mind.
