“Yes, Jane, it certainly will. It is only a pity that it has come at such a heavy price.”
The following morning, Elizabeth rose early and, taking her book, went out on a long walk. She watched the sun rise from atop Oakham Mount. When the day had brightened, she climbed into her favorite Oak tree and sat down to read. Three hours later, she returned home refreshed and heartened.
When she sat down to her meal, she saw the letter Mr. Hill had placed beside her napkin. It was a letter from Georgiana.
Elizabeth forgot her food. With the letter in her hand, she hurried up the stairs, tapped at Jane’s door, and then entered.
“Look, it has come.”
She perched upon the bed, her back against the headboard, while Jane sat up to listen.
Elizabeth broke the seal and read aloud.
April 15, 1811
My dear Lizzy,
How happy I am to hear from you. I had begun to despair that I should never hear from you again, but when I read your account, I understood at once what you have endured, and why you could not write sooner. I am so sorry for your loss.
I cannot imagine all that you and your sisters must suffer, for I have never known a mother myself, yet I remember how deeply I grieved when my father passed, and I think the pain must be similar.
My brother has not yet received my letter, for if he had, he would have come to me by now. I only pray that Cousin Phillip is not so unwell that Fitzwilliam cannot leave his side. You would love Cousin Phillip, Lizzy, as much as I do, for he is personable.
As for the Bingleys, I have heard nothing of them. In general, I should have received a visit from Miss Caroline by now, for she has set her cap for my brother, but since she learned from me that he is out of town for several weeks, she has no reason to call.
If I do see her, I shall ask after Mr. Bingley and the Hursts, for I know you value their friendship as I do.
Lizzy, I long to see you again. I have been quite lonesome here without you and Fitzwilliam. Write again soon.
With love,
Georgiana
Elizabeth set down the letter, greatly disappointed, and turned to her sister. Jane’s eyes were filling with moisture.
Elizabeth leaned toward her and rested her head against Jane’s.
“I am sorry, Jane. I had hoped this letter would bring us news of Mr. Bingley. Perhaps you should return to our Uncle Edward, and then you might call upon the Bingleys and see for yourself how he goes on.”
Jane sniffed and wiped her eyes with the corner of the bed sheet.
“No, it is well, Lizzy. I will not chase after a man who thinks so little of me that he has not even taken his leave.”
Elizabeth was filled with sadness for her sister.
“I suppose you are right. It is not for want of encouragement that he has forsaken you. There is no excuse. I believe I hate Mr. Bingley for the suffering he has caused you.”
Jane shook her head.
“He is among the most amiable men I have ever known. He made no promise to me, Lizzy. It was my own fault, in taking his universal amiability for something more than it was.”
Elizabeth did not answer, yet her silence burned with indignation, for she could not forgive so careless an abandonment of the sweetest woman Mr. Bingley would ever meet.
She was encouraged that her young friend’s spirits appeared cheerful, if the letter might be trusted as evidence, yet Elizabeth soon acknowledged another source of disappointment. Georgiana had not yet seen Mr. Darcy and therefore had no news of him. He remained away. At the thought of him, her own spirits declined without apparent cause, and in that moment she understood, with some alarm, that her happiness was becoming too closely bound to that gentleman.
Later that morning, after she had given her father his chest treatments, she sat with him while he drank his hot medicinal tea.
Elizabeth resolved to speak with him of their plans to save for dowries and began to explain the particulars. When she had finished, she fell silent and watched his countenance, waiting for his reply.
