When I returned to the room to find several sprigs ofwildflowers tied hastily together with a lilac hair ribbon and set on my pillow, the voices advocating for screaming got a little louder. It was Kitty’s ribbon—I recognised it from one of the many times I’d found myself staring at her curls, fascinated by the way each one had its own opinions about where it was going and how it meant to get there. Any logical person had to therefore deduce that Kitty had left the flowers. Except she was nowhere to be seen, and she seemed to want little to do with me, and I was rather losing track of what I was supposed to be feeling.
I relied on Darcy to provide me with any level of entertainment. Elizabeth’s opinion of me was still unclear, so a ridiculous chain of conversation was set up, where I asked Darcy to ask Elizabeth if I might borrow a book, and she in turn lent it to him, and he passed it on to me. If Darcy had any thoughts on the matter, he kept them to himself. My leg was still healing, and he seemed inclined to coddle me at least until I could walk without a limp.
The situation continued for two days. I barely saw Kitty—even at night, she curled up away from me and faced the wall, always gone by the time I woke up. I didn’t make eye contact with Elizabeth, too afraid of what I might find. I simply tucked myself into a corner, longing for my own books and my own instruments, and tried not to draw attention to myself. It seemed to be working, until midafternoon on the second day, when Elizabeth came to find me.
“Will you take a walk with me?” she asked, before her eyes fell to my knee, propped up on a cushion. “A short walk. To the end of the garden.”
I half worried I would never make it back, but Elizabeth didn’t seem the sort to solve her problems with homicide. Besides, I was hopeful she loved Darcy too much to do something that would likely make him so unhappy.
I had largely kept to the house at Longbourn, so under any other circumstances I would have been glad for the opportunity to take the air, even walking as slow as I now had to. This walk was clearly not one of simple exercise or pleasure.
Tension hung thick between us as Elizabeth led me through the gardens until we reached a stone bench sheltered from the house by a row of trees. She gestured for me to sit. As much as I wanted to face her eye to eye for this conversation, I needed to be able to focus without the risk of my knee buckling under me, so I dutifully took a seat on the bench.
When Elizabeth spoke, her words were measured and calm, clearly rehearsed.
“Georgiana, I… I owe you an apology. I should not have taken my sister away so hastily. My fatherisunwell, as you know, but after what I saw, I should have given her time to say her goodbyes.”
I dropped my gaze, running my fingers over the rough surface of the bench. I’d promised Kitty I would not speak of it. When it became clear my chosen response was silence, Elizabeth tried again.
“What did I see?” she pushed.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice barely loud enough to be heard over the wind.
“I think we both know that isn’t the truth.”
“I really don’t know,” I protested. “We got carried away. I… I did not… We just…”
Was it truly breaking my promise to Kitty if Elizabeth already knew what had happened? If she’d seen it with her own eyes, there was no denying it. I had to tell her something, and I was in no mind to craft falsehoods. The confusion had been building up inside me in layer after layer of conflicting signs and messages, and I was finally being offered a way to lighten the load. So I took it, the words pouring out of me.
“She went away so suddenly, but she sent this letter that made it seem like… I have read it so often over the last few days I have already torn holes in the folds. Now she barely even looks at me, but there were flowers on my pillow, and it is killing me not to know what she’s thinking or whether she… Whether she truly feels the way I do.”
I was almost out of breath as I finished. When I risked a glance up at Elizabeth, I found none of the horror I’d anticipated, but instead sympathy in her eyes.
“What way is that?” she asked gently.
“I am afraid to say it,” I whispered, worried I was going to tear a hole in my skirts from how tightly I was twisting the fabric between my fingers.
Even if fear wasn’t silencing me, the language to accurately describe my feelings would likely still elude me. Peopleso often spoke of love, but how was one supposed to tell if that was truly what something was if they’d never knowingly felt it before? I had never loved Helena. I had been fond of her, certainly, and intrigued by how it felt to kiss her and confirm my suspicions about where my interests lay, but I now knew for certain I had not been in love, because what I had felt for Helena was nothing like the all-consuming ocean ofsomethingI felt for Kitty.
“I have never seen my sister so out of sorts,” Elizabeth admitted. “Being apart from Lydia has done her good, and she has grown into a much more sensible young woman, but she doesn’t seem to know herself right now.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “It is all my fault.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. You can be sure she has feelings for you, Georgiana. She would not be so affected if she did not. The precise nature of those feelings is not for me to pretend to know, but I watched her write you that letter from the carriage. She ended up covered in ink and sealing wax for her efforts, but the whole time she was torn between elation and concern. For you. It is only since we arrived in Meryton that she has come to withdraw. If I had any part in that, I apologise.”
It was all I could do to remember how to blink at her, wondering with each pass of my eyelids across my vision if the image before me would be erased and replaced with one of anger, disgust, and blame. But the image stayed true—Elizabeth was far more understanding than I had ever imagined.
She took a seat beside me, reaching for my hand andsqueezing my fingers. “I do not judge you. Either of you. It is… a surprise to me, but heaven knows men are frequently more trouble than they are worth.”
For a second, I just stared at her. It took a moment for her words to fully process, but once they had, I could not stop the wave of laughter that rolled through me. Elizabeth caught it, too, and soon we were both giggling uncontrollably. It felt good to laugh properly for the first time since the night of the ball.
When the laughter wore off, we were still smiling, and Elizabeth pulled me in for a hug.
“Do you want me to talk to Kitty?” she asked.
I considered it, but I wasn’t sure if the confirmation of the depth of Elizabeth’s knowledge would help anything or just make things worse. More than that, I was afraid she’d realise that, even without the fear of her sister’s condemnation, I still wasn’t worth it. Or, worse still, she had no real feelings for me at all.
“Perhaps not yet,” I suggested. “I think she might still be… processing. It can be a lot to accept.” I knew that all too well from experience. Time and space would help. It had helped me, and sometimes I still needed it. “My brother has no idea. If I could persuade you not to discuss it with him?”
