She longed desperately for peace, to understand how that event had changed her and to plan for a future that seemed for the moment obscured by doubt and pain. She hoped her thoughts would settleinher aunt’s warm and welcoming drawing-room and that the turmoil of the last few days would subside. Jane took her into her arms, and the embrace lasted far longer than usual, for in recent months, consumed by her own suffering, Jane had shut out everyone, even her dearest sister.
“I am sorry,” Jane murmured into Elizabeth’s ear, but Elizabeth pulled away almost abruptly to look at her.
“Heavens, but why?”
Yet all three knew the reason, and Mrs Gardiner’s smile deepened as she regarded her two nieces, both different from how they had been just a few months ago, matured and yet even more beautiful.
“Your last letter felt as though it drew me out of a dark tunnel I had been wandering through for months,” Jane said, her voice tinged with regret. “I suddenly realised I had no notion of what had been happening around me all that time. It was only ever about me.”
“And that was perfectly natural,” Mrs Gardiner declared, her voice carrying the weight of her wisdom, “but now it is about Lizzy.”
Elizabeth cast her a grateful gaze. “It is so good to be with you both! I desperately need to discuss what happened in Kent with you.”
“And we have some interesting news…” Jane began, then fell silent, waiting for Elizabeth to speak first.
“There is little more to recount besides what I wrote,” Elizabeth admitted with a sigh. She took a sip of tea and nibbled on a biscuit, but the time had come to unburden her heart.
“Besides from Mr Darcy asking for my hand and my horrible refusal, everything else seems indistinct. It is as though I am no longer myself but watching these events and feelings unfold from a distance. I know they are mine, yet I am afraid to feel them…to the very end.”
The two ladies looked at her without a word, waiting for her to continue.
“His proposal was”—Elizabeth hesitated, unwilling to use a harsher word—“awful.” Somewhere in her heart, she did not wish to reveal the whole truth about his disparagement of her family, as though she did not want her aunt and sister to form too harsh an opinion of him.
“In what sense?”
“Mr Darcy declared his love for me, but at the same time, he made it clear that his family was superior to ours, that within him there had been a great struggle—”
“Which love won,” Jane interjected unexpectedly, watching her intently.
“Yes,” Elizabeth admitted, “but I could not accept his view of our family.”
“Which, in truth, he does not even know,” Mrs Gardiner remarked. “Do you love him?”
Elizabeth hid her eyes, bewildered by such a simple question, the key to all her torment.
“Before his proposal I was sure I did not love him. Today…I am not that sure any longer… I love him…my God, I love him,” she murmured. “But I understood my feelings too late. He left Kent unaware of how I felt…or worse still, carrying only the memory of my scorn and barely hidden loathing.”
The hesitation and regret in her voice moved both women. They sat beside her on the sofa, drawing her into a gentle embrace, their presence a comforting shield against the storm of emotions.
“How is it possible not to know?” Jane finally asked, recalling with perfect clarity that she had felt love from her first dance with Mr Bingley—a sentiment that had only deepened over time. “I never hesitated to recognise what was happening to me—from the first moment.”
Elizabeth shook her head while saying, “Because Mr Bingley was an open and cheerful man—”
“Who left me without a word. While the taciturn, arrogant gentleman proposed to you. Truly, it is not difficult to see which of them is the more honest and earnest.”
“Mr Darcy advised Mr Bingley to leave you,” Elizabeth proffered as if trying to convince herself that the man who had asked for her hand was unworthy of her love.
But Jane responded calmly, “As did his sisters. But Mr Bingley is a grown man, in control of his own life, and advice is nothing more than words.”
“I thought I hated Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth continued.
“Because he did not like us?” Jane asked, puzzled.
“Yes.”
“Was that the only reason you hated him?” insisted Mrs Gardiner.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying to relive the proposal. Still, the memories of that moment, devoid of the furious passion that had once consumed her, gave no answer. Suddenly, she no longer knew why she had hated him, why she had spoken so harshly. At the very least, she could have refused him with cold anger. The outburst, which now filled her with shame, was proof that within her heart, a battle had raged—just as it had in his.
