When at last the carriage came around, there was a flutter of movement: shawls, cloaks, a final inquiry after Jane’s comfort, Miss Bingley’s polished farewells, Mrs. Hurst’s languid wishes for continued recovery. Bingley insisted upon escorting Janehimself, and Elizabeth walked behind them with Susie following, the maid’s arms full of small parcels.
Darcy did not go out.
He told himself the hall was crowded enough. He told himself Bingley had the right to attend Jane. He told himself Elizabeth would not want his assistance. All were true. None were the whole truth.
Instead, he stood at the drawing room window and watched.
Bingley handed Jane carefully into the carriage, bending over her hand with such tenderness that even from a distance Darcy could see the reverence in it. Jane’s face was pale, but her smile was unmistakable, and Bingley lingered half a moment longer than necessary before releasing her.
Then Elizabeth turned.
Perhaps she had only meant to look back at the house. Perhaps she had felt him there. Darcy did not know. But her eyes found him through the glass as surely as if no wall, no window, no distance stood between them.
Neither looked away.
The world narrowed to that look.
There was hurt in her face, though she tried to hide it. There was pride too, and disappointment, and something softer beneath both that pierced him worse than accusation. He wanted to go to her. He wanted to cross the lawn, open the carriage door, speak before everyone and beg one moment in which to repair what his cowardice had damaged.
He did nothing.
Bingley said something to her, drawing her attention. Elizabeth blinked, turned away, and stepped into the carriage.
A footman closed the door.
The horses moved.
Darcy remained at the window as the carriage rolled down the drive. The wheels struck a shallow rut; the vehicle swayed, thensteadied. He watched until it passed between the trees, watched after there was nothing left to see, watched until even the sound of it had faded.
Only then did he lower his hand from the curtain.
Elizabeth was gone.
And with a certainty that left no room for argument, Darcy knew his heart had gone with her.
Chapter 21
Elizabeth returned to Longbourn tired enough that even the familiar noise of home seemed to come at her from a distance.
Jane was immediately claimed by Mrs. Bennet, who alternated between embracing her, scolding her for looking pale, and declaring that Netherfield had very likely saved her life by being so comfortably furnished and so conveniently owned by a gentleman of five thousand a year. Kitty and Lydia wanted every particular of the visit, especially whether Mr. Bingley had looked grave, whether Mr. Darcy had been proud, whether Miss Bingley’s gowns were very fine, and whether any officers had called while Jane was there. Mary observed that illness was often a salutary reminder of mortality, though she was prevented from expanding upon the subject by Lydia’s groan.
Elizabeth answered what she must, helped Jane to the sofa, ensured she had a shawl and tea, and then escaped to her father’s study before her mother could begin the whole inquiry again.
Mr. Bennet looked up from his book when she entered, but only long enough to point toward a stack of papers upon one corner of his desk. “There you are, Lizzy. Your return is mosttimely. Hill has brought these twice, and I have been obliged to defend myself against them with more courage than success.”
Elizabeth looked at the papers.
There were memoranda from the steward, notes about two tenants’ repairs, accounts from the butcher and farrier, a request concerning timber in the south copse, and a folded bill from Meryton regarding a small order of linens she had commissioned for the Gardiner children.
She gathered the stack without any of her usual interest.
“Is that all?” she asked.
Mr. Bennet lowered his book a fraction and narrowed his eyes. “That is not a very Lizzy-like response. I had expected at least one sigh over my indolence and two sharp observations upon the imprudence of leaving estate matters to accumulate.”
“I am sure I shall have them ready by morning.”
“Are you unwell?”
