Mary blushed happily at the importance of the question. “Lizzy, I know nothing about love, but I have read—”
“You have read a lot,” Elizabeth acknowledged with a small smile—the first that morning.
“Yes, but I wonder whether books can replace real experience,” Mary answered, genuinely troubled by addressing a dilemma that had never crossed her mind before.
“I trust your keen observations more than what you have read. I am sure you have been keeping an eye on us.”
“I have,” Mary admitted. “I hope you are not offended.”
“Not at all. Please, tell me what you noticed.”
“I saw two people equally in love. Mr Darcy was more obvious in his affection. He looked at you more often than you looked at him.”
Elizabeth sighed deeply, trying to shake off the heavy burden on her soul. Sometimes, it felt almost unbearable, preventing her from breathing.
“He was honest then—he was not pretending to feel something he did not,” Elizabeth murmured, unsure why she still yearned for details that could no longer change anything. It was not his love she needed clarified but the reasons he had chosen to run after such a charming time together.
“No, I do not think so,” Mary answered, still hesitant, unsure how to help Elizabeth.
“I shall keep my feelings to myself when we return home,” Elizabeth finally said.
“I understand your decision. You might find it hard to conceal your sadness, though.”
Elizabeth nodded, looking to Mary with quiet gratitude. Indeed, in her sister’s presence she felt no need to feign composure.
“I hope Jane’s happiness will shine so brightly that it eclipses everything else.” She sighed, hoping that at least their sister would find her happiness.
“Did she say anything about her engagement?”
∞∞∞
“There is no engagement,” Jane said lightly, her smile spreading as she hugged her sisters, answering their unspoken questions. “In this house, we do not talk about engagements or marriage. When I have news, you will be the first to know. Mr Bingley is simply courting me, hoping I shall fall in love with him!”
Jane’s announcement was so unexpected that Elizabeth and Mary looked at each other in surprise.
“Stop exchanging those knowing glances,” Jane playfully scolded. “I want our feelings to develop naturally.”
“Are you not worried that he…” Elizabeth hesitated to say more; just a month ago, simply saying his name had caused her sister great pain.
“No, I am not worried any longer. We have reached a point where our feelings are clear, but it will take some time before we make any official declaration.”
“And Mama?”
“She is quite beside herself, though Papa endeavours to manage her as best he can,” Jane replied with a light laugh. The sound, so long absent from Longbourn, warmed Elizabeth’s heart.
“And you?” Jane asked, but at that very moment, Mr Bingley arrived, and she hastened to receive him.
“Well…I am reassured. My secret remains intact,” Elizabeth remarked to Mary with a trace of sarcasm. “I couldweep in some forgotten corner, and no one would notice.” Yet there was no bitterness in her tone, nor sorrow. She placed her quiet hope in Longbourn and in the solace of familiar faces to restore her spirits to what they once had been.
Although her father perceived her melancholy, he chose not to press her. Perhaps he understood that there was little to be said—that any hopeful turn in her affairs would have already been revealed.
Elizabeth was grateful for his discretion, for his unspoken confidence in her judgment. Still, for the first time in her life, she felt no inclination to confide in him or in anyone else.
The only question Mr Bennet posed concerned the long-planned journey to the Lakes.
“There may be a change in our plans for mid-July. Instead of journeying north, we might travel southwards,” Elizabeth answered, her voice betraying a pain that did not escape her father.
“But why this change?” he asked, his tone gentle yet filled with the quiet urgency of one who longs to understand without intrusion—of one who suspects that something in Bath had altered the course of her heart.
