Elizabeth behaved as though she had not noticed Caroline’s tone. It was evident they were not concealing any information from her, but with their brother away, the two sisters had no source of news about his friend. And it seemed that London itself knew nothing.
This lack of news about Darcy deepened her suffering. It seemed that he wished to hide, while whenever she closed her eyes, he filled her mind with the image of himself as she had last seen him at the parsonage.
She longed to see him with all her heart. It was a truth she could no longer conceal from herself: she needed to meet him once more, face to face. Not through letters or messages, not through scraps of intelligence gleaned by a gossip-hungry London, but they themselves, together, to speak of their difficulties and perhaps to clarify them.
Once the Bingleys had returned, she hoped Darcy would visit his friend.
Mrs Gardiner had been right: after weeks of despair, she had found a new hope.
∞∞∞
It did not take long for Elizabeth to move to the Bingleys’ town house. She packed her things in an almost cheerful mood. Early in the afternoon, Mr and Mrs Gardiner accompanied her to Jane’s new home—not without regret. It had been pleasant to have Elizabeth with them. She was always ready to help her young cousins or assist Mrs Gardiner with her daily tasks. Their evenings had often passed in agreeable conversation, as aunt and uncle commented upon the news circulating through London.
With evident pride, Jane led Elizabeth to her apartments, which included a cosy sitting-room where Elizabeth discovered a pretty writing-desk.
“I do not want you ever to feel anxious about your own future or that of our family. Charles is a wonderful man, and he will take care of all of us. But I am certain that, before long, youtoo will find a good husband. You cannot imagine how happy I am to have you in my house in London.”
Jane continued to speak, unconscious of her sister’s silence. She supposed everyone must be happy, since she herself was. Elizabeth was tempted to tell her of Darcy and Hunsford, but then she thought better of it. It was safer that Jane should know nothing. She would speak to Bingley, and if too many people knew the secret, it might create difficulties for Darcy—or for herself.
Then Jane’s voice seemed to come from a distance, telling her how wonderful marriage was.
“You need not be afraid of becoming a wife…a woman…” she whispered, though no one else could hear them.
Jane was blushing, but she felt it important to speak, since with Kitty or Lydia she never referred to such matters. “I never imagined that I should enjoy every moment I spend with my husband…you know…”
Elizabeth nodded. At another time, she would have been eager to hear everything that related to married life. But lately, with her own chance of being Darcy’s wife so diminished, she found no pleasure in the details Jane wished to confide.
“I do not know whether my husband is extraordinary, but all the things other women told us were quite false. It is pleasant—and at times even blissful.”
She stopped again and looked at her sister. “You know, I may be…with child.” And in sharing that confidence, her happiness seemed to increase still more.
Perhaps for the first time in their lives, Elizabeth did not wish to hear Jane’s secrets. In the past, to spend time alone with her had always been the happiest part of the day; but now too much had changed. She rejoiced in her sister’s happiness, but in joy as in sorrow, Jane could sometimes be overwhelming.She seemed always to require undivided attention and continual sympathy.
Elizabeth returned to the parlour with a sense of relief, but unfortunately, it did not last.
Scarcely had she taken her seat beside her aunt when Bingley began to speak, in that cheerful voice he had not been able to govern since his marriage. To him, all news appeared good news.
“It seems that the mystery of Darcy’s absence from our wedding is at last explained.”
Elizabeth looked at him, her heart beating wildly as she tried to still her trembling hands.
“My friend is going to be married!”
Around the room there were many exclamations, but Mrs Gardiner attended only to the effect of those words upon Elizabeth. Her face lost all colour, and she sat perfectly still.
“What excellent news indeed!” cried Mr Gardiner, entirely unaware of the pain those words had produced.
“Yes, most unexpected,” Bingley continued. “I think our happiness gave him the idea.”
He laughed, looking at his wife. They were rarely able to conceal their feelings and spoke openly to one another, no matter who might be present. But they were always easily forgiven.
“And whom is he to marry?” Elizabeth asked. Her voice was so altered that it made her aunt tremble; fortunately, only she perceived the change.
“You would never guess.” Bingley prolonged Elizabeth’s suspense. “His cousin—Anne de Bourgh!”
And Elizabeth let her head sink back against the sofa cushions.
It was impossible. She tried to remember Anne de Bourgh, but she had more recollections of her companion, Mrs Jenkinson.
