“I should not have asked.”
“No,” he replied urgently, “You should have! This is… this is exactly what I…” He pulled out his handkerchief and scrubbed it over his eyes, defying the tears to return. “Miss Bennet, you must see that things cannot carry on as they are. I love my sister dearly. I want to tell you about her - but it hurts me. I think of her playing the pianoforte, and wonder if she will ever play it again. I cannot think of her smile without thinking it may have been her last. I want to tell you about the Georgiana I love, but she may be gone forever.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, “Is she dying?”
Darcy shook his head. For the first time, voice cracking, he told someone the truth: “No, but shewantsto.”
The other woman drew back, her breath hitching in her throat, “Mr. Darcy, I cannot… I know I promised, but… surely a doctor would be better at… oh!” now it was she who had to wipe tears away, “Mr. Darcy, surely you must know that I cannot help her? How can I? I know nothing about…”
“Neither do I.” he replied, “I have already failed her, Miss Bennet. I was not the person she needed, and when I stopped trying, she slipped away. I make things so complicated. I have a thousand solutions for her hundred problems, and all of them seem to be incorrect. What she needs is kindness, and patience, and love. I know you can…”
“I am not an angel.” Elizabeth said bluntly, “And you love her more than I.”
“No, you are not an angel.” Darcy put his handkerchief carefully back in his pocket and then looked at her face. A wry smile crossed his face. “Miss Bennet, I can see that you are frightened.”
“Frightened!”
“Yes, frightened. Not for your own sake, I think. Do you think that I will refuse to help your sister, if you tell me that you cannot help mine?”
Elizabeth shook her head, but an embarrassed blush appeared on her throat. “You are a man of honour, sir.”
“You do not know that. I hope that I am, butyoudo not know that. We are almost at the stile, Miss Bennet, so let us be very clear with one another now. My offer to you still stands. I know how impossible the task I have set you is. I do not expect you to succeed; I only ask that you try. Whatever the outcome, I shall not resent you.”
“And in return, Jane will be safe.”
“In return! This is not a trade, Miss Be… Elizabeth. Do not think of yourself as a chess piece, but as a player. Today, we can do something good for Jane; perhaps, in time, we can do the same for Georgiana. But we must do this together, Elizabeth. If we act alone, then they are lost.”
“I cannot save my sister,” she said quietly, “And you cannot save yours.”
“Precisely. The stile awaits us; I have not changed my mind. What is your answer?”
Elizabeth put her hand on the wooden fence and dug her nails into the splinters. They crackled beneath her fingertips. The smell of woodchips and hot, damp grass was almost overpowering, but not as dizzying as him. Unreadable and vulnerable, fierce and gentle, so full of pain and stubborn tenderness.
I am not an angel anymore.She thought,Now, he expects me to fail.
So why is he still here?
Darcy met her eyes, silent and waiting, and Lizzie thought she saw a little of the answer. Beyond her understanding, it lurked in the dark-unsaid and made her heart pound. Elizabeth stepped closer and took his warm hand in hers.
“It is this way.” she said, “We should speak to my parents.”
Chapter 9
“Lizzie,” a pale hand gripped her elbow and tugged. A tiny whisper emerged: “Lizzie, I must speak to you.”
Elizabeth put her fingers over the hand and stroked it soothingly, “Don’t worry, Jane. All will be well.”
“Lizzie, you musttalkto me!” Jane insisted, and this time was strong enough to pull her sister towards her. “Please.”
Elizabeth frowned. She had been standing awkwardly in the hallway outside her father’s study, where Mr. Darcy had just gone in. They would doubtless be in there for a long time.Hours,even. Her feet froze to the floor, and she had just resolved herself to stay there when Jane crept out of the stillroom and tried to coax her away.
“What if they need me?” Lizzie asked. The question was plaintive, and when she looked at her sister even she knew how childish she sounded: “I don’t know what to do, Jane. Do I… wait? Do they call for me?”
“I don’t know, dearest. I am sure that if they want to find you, they shall.” Jane murmured, still pulling at her arm, “All will be well. Isn’t that what you told me?”
“Yes, but…”
“If I am to believe it, then you must, too.” The older girl smiled a little, and this time when she tugged, Lizzie followed. When they got into the cramped stillroom, Jane let her go and then threw her arms around her sister’s shoulders. It was the most violent hug they had ever shared. By the time she let go, Elizabeth was gasping.
