After a moment, Elizabeth added, “He told me Mr. Darcy wronged him grievously. He told me he had been deprived of a profession, of a future, of every chance – and I believed him… or, at least, I did not question him as I might have done. And yet tonight…” She broke off, then shook her head. “No. I do not mean to rehearse it all.”
“You need not,” Jane said softly.
Elizabeth looked up again. “Jane, did you speak of Mr. Darcy’s sister?”
Jane nodded. “Yes. I asked after her.”
“Thank you. And?”
“He spoke of her with great affection,” Jane said. “He said she is very young, very shy, and much attached to her brother. He believes she is happier away from large company. He extended the invitation to her to join them at Netherfield, but she declined.”
Elizabeth was silent for a moment.
“That is not how Mr. Wickham described her,” she said at last.
“No.”
“She was not proud? Not disdainful? Not severe?”
Jane shook her head. “No. Mr. Bingley said quite the opposite.”
Elizabeth leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I was so looking forward to the ball! Ugh,” she exclaimed. So, that is two things.”
Jane glanced at her. “Two?”
“Two things he was very certain of,” Elizabeth replied. “And very wrong about.” She closed her eyes briefly. “Why did I even bother to find these things out, if I was so ready to believe what pleased me first?”
Jane reached for her hand. “Lizzy…”
“No,” Elizabeth interrupted, though not unkindly. “I do not mean that I regret knowing. I regret how readily I was satisfied… as if I had been content with the first account just because it suited me.” She opened her eyes again. “I wanted Mr. Darcy to be unjust – or at least, I had been very ready to believe it. It made everything simpler.” She looked away. “Why would a man speak of a young lady in such terms if it were not true? What could his motive be?”
“Oh, I did not even think of that! Indeed, why? I am sure, Mr. Bingley spoke only as he understood it.” Jane smiled. “You are clever, you will discover the truth.”
Elizabeth gave a short laugh. “You always say things like that.”
“And you always prove them.”
Elizabeth squeezed her hand. “Do not be too charitable. I may yet be wrong again.” She paused, then added more quietly, “But I begin to think I should have listened more – and admired less.”
Jane said nothing, but her expression was thoughtful.
Elizabeth stood at last. “Come,” she said. “If I am to change my opinions, I should at least do so after a night’s sleep.”
She paused at the door and glanced back. “And Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Do not tell Mr. Bingley any of this.”
Jane smiled. “I had not intended to.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Good. I would rather be wrong privately.”
***
The two of them set out to serve the guests. Elizabeth had insisted upon remaining. She suggested that Jane leave her to it.
Jane, though reluctant, yielded at last when Elizabeth pressed the tray into her hands and said, with a softness meant to reassure, “Go. Mama will have you seated before the cake is properly admired, and Mr. Bingley will think himself dismissed if you linger here.”
