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She shook her head. “I feign nothing. Nor do I pretend. I am afraid I have little to offer you, Lady Catherine.”

“You will offer me your word that you will never wed my nephew. That is what I have come for, with Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson to bear witness.”

Elizabeth could only assume Mrs. Jenkinson to be the woman she did not know. The one who appeared as if she would rather be anywhere else. Meanwhile, Miss Laura still attended with keen interest, likely learning all the worst ways to behave.

“Well?” Lady Catherine snapped.

“Well what?” Elizabeth’s head swam. Her heart beat with a dull ache, all the pain the organ could muster through her numb sorrow.

“Give me your word that you will never marry Darcy.”

To do so would be so simple. It was not as if he would marry her, after all. Still, Elizabeth’s pride rose up, sparked by Lady Catherine’s unreasonableness and her demanding tone. “I cannot.”

“You certainly can.”

“Then, rather, I will not.” Elizabeth met the other woman’s gaze squarely. “To be even more clear, I refuse to do so.”

“Even knowing he will never have you?”

“If he will never have me, you do not require my vow.”

Lady Catherine glared at her. “It is a question of money, is it?” Her gesture encompassed the garden. “I can see how in need your family is. I will give you fifty pounds in exchange for your word that you will never marry Darcy.”

Elizabeth stared at her, feeling she could hardly be more insulted.

After silence stretched between them to the point where even Miss Laura began to fidget, Lady Catherine shrugged and said, “Very well. A hundred pounds, but you and your father will sign a document declaring that you will never wed my nephew.”

Apparently, Elizabeth could indeed be more insulted. “I will not give you my word. Nor will I sign anything. You could offer me ten thousand pounds and my answer would remain the same.”

“Ten thousand pounds? Do you think me mad?”

Elizabeth rather did. Drawing her shoulders back, she dipped a curtsy. “It has been illuminating to make your acquaintance, Lady Catherine.” Elizabeth nodded to the other three women. “Miss de Bourgh, Mrs. Jenkinson, Miss Laura.”

“Where do you think you are going?” Lady Catherine snapped as Elizabeth pivoted away.

She made no answer, marching up to the back of the house.

“Return this instant.”

Elizabeth went in through the scullery door, trying not to rush in her desire to escape Lady Catherine’s caterwauling. She didn’t want her flight to appear any more like a retreat than it already must.

Crossing the kitchen, Elizabeth ignored the interested looks of the staff as she went to the servants’ stairs. She took it upward, seeking the room she still, for a short time more, shared with Jane. Jane, who would marry Mr. Bingley in a little over a week. Jane, who was about to embark on a new life full of love and joy, while Elizabeth remained in Longbourn all alone.

Reaching the sanctuary of her room, Elizabeth toppled face down onto her bed and burst into tears.

***

The day dawned so clear, the sky brightening to such a perfect cerulean as to reaffirm Elizabeth’s belief that her sister Jane was the most fortunate miss to ever grace England’s shores. October had raged and roared ere now, blustery and cold, but the day of Jane and Mr. Bingley’s wedding proved perfect.

Mr. Darcy and his sister would undoubtedly have a pleasant ride back to London.

Elizabeth shoved down that thought as she stood in the entrance hall waiting for the rest of her family to join her. Today was Jane’s day. Even Mrs. Bennet made no mention of Mr. Darcy, focusing instead on how lovely Jane would look and how envious all the other mamas in the area were. If Mrs. Bennet could be cheerful, Elizabeth could at least endeavor to appear so.

She need not even endure Mr. Collins. While Jane and Mr. Bingley had drawn out their engagement to give Mr. Darcy time to recover enough to attend their wedding, Charlotte and Mr. Collins had married as hastily as possible. He, in particular, seemed keen to return to his parish. Elizabeth rather suspected Lady Catherine had issued some threats in that regard and that Mr. Collins feared losing his post. She wasn’t certain if her ladyship had that power, but she hoped, for Charlotte’s sake, that all would be well in Kent.

One of the footmen came in bearing the day’s post, which he placed on a silver salver in the hall with a nod for Elizabeth. Above, Lydia’s querulous voice rose, complaining about ribbons, followed by Mrs. Bennet’s screech for them all to hurry. They were in no risk of being late, but Mrs. Bennet longed to arrive before anyone else so she could stand before the church and remind everyone who entered that Jane was marrying a very wealthy gentleman.

Shaking her head, uncertain if she had the fortitude to find her mother’s behavior amusing today, Elizabeth crossed to the salver. Idly, she flipped through the small stack of missives.