“That does not mean you didnot have feelings for him before.”
“No, Papa, you are wrong. I would have handled the situation differently if I had trulyhad feelings for him before he proposed. On that fateful day, I was simply shocked and angered by his stupid inner struggles and, more significantly, by his role in Mr Bingley’s departure.”
“Give me but a moment, Lizzy,” Mr Bennet said, turning to Jane, who was still weeping softly. “Dry your eyes, my dear. I have a question of some import to ask you.”
Jane obeyed immediately, dabbing her tears away as always, without protest.
“Had the situation been reversed—if Mr Bingley had advised Mr Darcy against courting Elizabeth—would you have refused Mr Bingley’s proposal?”
“No!” Jane replied at once, without a moment’s hesitation, the flush rising to her cheeks only afterwards. Yet for Elizabeth, it came as neither a surprise nor a source of sorrow.
“Do not be ashamed of it!” Mr Bennet exclaimed, more animated than usual. “That is the right answer—not the one your sister gave.”
“You have not resolved anything, Lizzy,” he continued in an affectionate tone. “You remain unmarried, and that man’s unfavourable impression of us endures. Now, Jane, what would you have told Mr Bingley immediately after agreeing?”
And once again, the timid yet wise young lady responded promptly, “That I would marry him, but he must first acquaint himself with Lizzy and see what a wonderful person she is and seek forgiveness for his mistake.”
“You are right!” Elizabeth said and began to pace the room. For once, Mr Bennet did not protest; she was too upset. “That is what I would say today to Mr Darcy. But even though I did not accept him, two weeks after that disastrous proposal, I tried, in my own way, to change his opinion of us. It was the least I could do.”
“How?” asked Mary impatiently, but no one answered her.
In that silence, Mr Bennet observed Elizabeth for a long time. Seeing Jane suffer had been torturous because, in the same way as she could spread love, she could also spread her pain toeverybody around her. Elizabeth was stoic in her sadness. She behaved as she always did. But that did not mean she suffered any less.
“I must speak to Elizabeth,” Mr Bennet said.
“No!” Mary cried, her voice trembling with uncharacteristic passion. “Please, Papa, let us stay and hear what you have to say. It means so much to me. To be here with you today has mattered more than any conversation I have ever had!”
“Of course you may stay!” Elizabeth exclaimed, smiling, yet her face did not reflect any happiness.
Mr Bennet nodded, genuinely astonished by his daughters. He saw them suddenly as grown ladies, filling his heart with joy, pride, and gratitude for the exceptional people they had become and for the relationship they shared with him—all three of them.
Chapter 31
“After all, what transpired is hardly a secret,” Elizabeth continued, looking at her father, who seemed to know much more than she had imagined.
“I want to know something,” Jane said, finally prepared to ask the question that had burned within her ever since she had discovered what had happened in Kent.
“Anything. I do not see the need to keep anything secret.”
Jane nodded, her beautiful face covered in a grey cloud.
“In London, I did not want to know, but this conversation with you made me change my mind,” she murmured as an unneeded justification. “Did Mr Darcy, at any point, convey that Mr Bingley was in love with me when he left?”
“Would such information have the power to mend your heart?” Mr Bennet asked. Although the day had been about Elizabeth, he was relieved to finally engage in a rational conversation with Jane concerning Mr Bingley.
“Mend? I cannot say, but at the very least, it might bring me some peace.”
“Why?” Mary interjected, perplexed. She had never given love much thought, but suddenly she found herself immersed in a world she had encountered only in novels. “You have already lost him, and if he still loved you when he left, he is weak and persuadable, which would make the pain even more acute—”
“Enough, Mary!” Elizabeth cried, fearful of causing Jane further distress when everybody hoped she was feeling better. But Jane put a gentle hand on her sister’s arm.
“No, Lizzy. I wish to hear everything that you know. For me, this is also a significant conversation—the first coherent one I have been able to endure.”
“You know how angry I was…that day,” Elizabeth said, trying to evade—or rather postpone—the disclosure.
“You have an excellent memory, Elizabeth Bennet,” Jane said sternly.
“When he proposed, he did not say much about his friend. But his letter—”
