Page 43

“And now you sound like Margaret. Lizzy, Mr. Darcy was mistaken, that is all.”

“He was extraordinarily confident for a man who had not troubled to even speak with you.”

That was what troubled her. Not merely that he had judged Jane incorrectly, but that he had acted upon the judgement as though it was infallible.

This behaviour was exactly what Mr. Wickham had described. Mr. Darcy had decided that he knew better than his father what Mr. Wickham was owed and withheld the rest. Now he had decided what Mr. Bingley deserved and had very nearly done the same. She had spent a week allowing herself to believe that perhaps Mr. Wickham had exaggerated. But perhaps he had not.

Jane folded her hands in her lap. “He was also concerned about our family, and given the list you just recited, I cannot say I fault him for that.”

“That, at least, I can understand,” Elizabeth said. “Mamma is vulgar, Kitty and Lydia are rash, Mary moralises, and Papa often finds amusement where he ought to exercise authority. I will grant that we are not difficult to criticise. But who could reproach you?”

“I have thought on this, and I believe Mr. Darcy was trying to protect his friend, as you would try to protect me. And he has apologised to Mr. Bingley.”

That was something, but it was not enough. “He has apologised to Mr. Bingley. Not to you.”

“I do not require an apology from Mr. Darcy.”

“He still ought to offer one.”

Jane drew a breath. “There is one more thing. But you must promise to reflect upon it rather than react.”

Elizabeth frowned. “That instruction has never preceded anything agreeable.”

“Mr. Darcy knew we were travelling to London and, at first, did not tell Mr. Bingley.”

Elizabeth was quiet. Mr. Darcy would not have supported his friend’s marriage—she knew him well enough to suspect that. But she had not thought he would stoop so low as to keep such information from his friend. “When did he know?”

“Miss Bingley received my note on Saturday, while Mr. Darcy was with them. Mr. Bingley had only just left the house. She told him we would soon be in London and asked him not to mention it.”

“And he agreed.”

“Yes.”

Elizabeth turned her face towards the fire.

She remembered Miss Bingley’s ridiculous attempt to prevent them from encountering Mr. Darcy in the hall. The invented mud upon Elizabeth’s gown. Mrs. Hurst slipping out. Mr. Darcy, somewhere in that house while Jane was being assured that Mr. Bingley was too busy with his London life and the Darcys to spare a thought for Hertfordshire.

Mr. Darcy had known they were in town, but he had likely not known they were in the house.

“Elizabeth Bennet,” Jane said.

Elizabeth arched one brow and folded her arms across her chest.

“Margaret crosses her arms just like that when she is disapproving something her brothers have done.” Jane’s smile was a fond one. “Now, I wish you to attend me, Lizzy.”

“Very well,” Elizabeth grumbled.

“Mr. Darcy came to Mr. Bingley,” Jane said. “Rather than allow him to hie off to Hertfordshire, he told him everything. That I was in London and that he had known.”

Elizabeth was unwilling to give him any credit for this. “Mr. Bingley was preparing to journey back to Hertfordshire, so Mr. Darcy knew your whereabouts would not be a secret much longer.”

“Mr. Bingley was angry with him.”

“I should hope so.”

“But Mr. Darcy apologised.”

“So you have said.”