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“My sister … Jane.”

“I am sorry.”

She reached for the brooch she always kept close to her heart—an exquisitely carved ornament, which contained a lock of Elizabeth’s beloved sister’s golden hair encased on one side and her sister’s likeness on the other. Opening it, she showed it to Darcy. “This is Jane.”

“Your sister was beautiful … and so young.”

Elizabeth nodded in acknowledgement. “Jane was always considered the beauty in the family. She was kind and good and always saw the best in everyone. Never had she uttered an unkind word.”

“Is your loss recent?”

“Nearly two years have passed.” Elizabeth closed her brooch, and her eyes drifted towards the sun settling over the horizon. “I should have done more. My sister needed me, and I failed her.”

Darcy placed his hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “Would you like to talk about what happened?”

Caught between despair over what she had seen earlier and longing to share her sorrow with another living being, she hardly recognised her own voice. “My papa did not want me to be there. He feared I was too young, but what he failed to understand was there was no place else on earth for me. I would have traded places with my sister if I could have.” Her eyes prickled with tears. “Jane died in my arms.”

There had been a succession of rainy days from the moment her beloved sister fell ill until the day she found peace. Melancholy had become Elizabeth’s favourite companion whenever rain poured from the skies. The unspoken truth was that the incident needed not to have happened. Elizabeth’s mother had the idea of sending Jane to a neighbouring estate nearly five miles from Longbourn on horseback in a misguided attempt to land a husband. Halfway into the journey, common sense had prevailed, and Jane returned home, but not soon enough to escape the onset of what Mrs. Bennet had proclaimed a trifling cold. Whether or not Mrs. Bennet suffered any guilt as a result of the tragedy was hard to say, but things had never been the same at Longbourn ever since that time. Elizabeth wanted to find fault in someone, but to ascribe blame to her mother was not something she would allow, even as a passing thought. Hence, she took the burden upon herself.

Darcy wanted nothing more than to touch Elizabeth’s face and wipe away her tears, but he could not. Such a show of affection surely exceeded all bounds of decorum. He cupped her hand in his. “You did not fail your sister.”

Elizabeth looked deep into his eyes and then slowly pulled away her hand. What am I doing confiding in this man? I hardly know him. Sniffing her tears, she managed a slight smile. “Of course you are correct, sir. As time goes on, I realise there is little I could have done. But then a dreadful accident like this occurs, and I find myself experiencing the harrowing pain of losing my sister all over again.”

Recalling how hopeless she felt during Jane’s ordeal, Elizabeth resolved that she must do something, anything to set her mind upon a different course. “There is an urgent matter that I must attend.”

“What is it?”

“You will see.” She led him into the rose garden. “Sir, may I borrow your pocket knife?”

“My knife?”

She arched her brow. “You do possess one, do you not?”

“I do, but what are you planning to do with a knife?”

“What do you think I plan to do?” She stepped closer and held out her hand. “I shall gather a fresh bouquet of flowers and send them to Lord Holland.”

“There is a fine idea. Perhaps the aroma will revive him.”

“Do not make light of my scheme unless you have a better idea, Mr. Darcy.”

“I was thinking of giving him a good shake for his perilous attempts to impress you, followed by a stern speech. His lordship hates any sort of rebuke. He will want to put forth a proper rebuttal.”

“What say you we first try my way?”

Later that evening, Elizabeth paced the floor. In spite of the lateness of the hour, sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. She had stayed at Avondale for as long as decorum allowed and finally accepted an offer of the Holland carriage to return her to Barrington Hall. Lady Vanessa spent the night at Avondale with a mind of being of some service to Lady Clarissa. Events of the day wreaked havoc in Elizabeth’s composure, and she knew but one way to calm herself.

I have not felt as awful as I did today for a very long time—not since the day I lost you. It was painful to suffer many of those same feelings again. I pray for a happier outcome than my fears portend—that I shall soon receive word that Lord Holland has awakened. The alternative is untenable for his friends and his acquaintances and especially for his mother, Lady Clarissa. She was most inconsolable today. She is most fortunate to have such a dear friend in Lady Vanessa who remains by her side.

I, too, found a comforting presence in the form of Mr. Darcy. Until today, I truly suspected the gentleman barely tolerated me, and his wont of looking at me was merely to find fault. Today, I witnessed a different side of him: a kind, gentle, and attentive being. He allowed—nay, encouraged me to show my pain by being an unbiased listener and a reassuring voice of reason. If it is possible for men and women to be friends, then I believe I have found a friend in Mr. Darcy.

CHAPTER 5

THE TROUBLE OF LIKING THEM

Darcy stared out the window and into the emptiness that preceded dawn’s awakening. The sound of his friend stirring in bed beckoned his attention. He whispered a silent prayer in thanks and proceeded to Lord Holland’s bedside. He pulled up a chair. “You gave us quite a scare today, my friend.”

His lordship glanced over and peered at the darkness outside. “What time is it?” He reached his hand to his head and felt the bandage. “What happened?”