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Bingley's hat still lay crushed beside him. The sight might ordinarily have been excellent material. Elizabeth picked it up without comment and tried to restore the crown.

"Jane likes the way you listen to her," she said. "She told me that before either of you knew anything about a script. I cannot prove where a feeling begins. I can tell you what she valued."

Bingley took the misshapen hat. "Then I had better continue to listen."

It was the first sensible answer any of them had found that day. Bingley stood, swayed, and accepted the place Darcy cleared beside him. He sat there until he trusted his legs again.

CHAPTER 15

Two hours later, the predicted rain had arrived, and everyone was now trapped in the parsonage sitting room. Mr. Collins had returned from the garden, muddy and distressed, muttering about "ungrateful cabbages."

Bingley sat in the corner with an untouched biscuit. Darcy had reopened his notebook and was entering the storm with rather more force than the paper required.

He marked the time at the top of the page, then looked up at another peal of thunder with unmistakable resentment.

Charlotte handed out tea with perfect composure. "Mr. Darcy, have you considered that complaining about the rainstorms might be why the narrative keeps sending them?"

Darcy put down his pencil. "That's... actually a good point."

"The narrative seems petty enough to do that," Elizabeth agreed.

Thunder shook the window before anyone could answer. Bingley moved his chair away from it.

"I shall object from here," he said.

At that moment, a carriage pulled up outside. Through the rain, Elizabeth could see her father's coat of arms.

"That's... That's my family's carriage," she said slowly. "Why would⁠—"

The door burst open. Jane rushed in, soaking wet, looking frantic.

"Lizzy! Thank goodness! I had the strangest compulsion to come to Kent. I don't know why I'm here. Papa tried to stop me but I just... I had to come. I borrowed the carriage yesterday morning and drove here myself, with a night at an inn on the way, even though I don't remember learning to drive and—" She stopped, taking in the room. "Why is everyone staring at me?"

"Oh no," Darcy said. "She's waking up too."

"Jane?" Elizabeth approached her sister. "How did you know where to find me?"

"I... I don't know." Jane looked confused. "I just knew. Like the information was written into my head. And I had to come. The need was overwhelming. Is that normal?"

"Define normal," Bingley said from his corner.

Jane finally noticed him. "Her breath caught," the intrusive voice supplied.

Darcy began to reach for his pencil. Jane saw him and shook her head.

"Please do not write that down. I have been driven across the country by something that borrowed my hands. I should like the use of them back before anyone describes what I am feeling."

He put the pencil down.

Elizabeth took the wet cloak from her sister and told her, as plainly as she could, what they had learned. Jane listened without interrupting. Once she looked toward the window, where the carriage waited; she had held its reins and still could not remember learning how.

"All the times I wished to object," she said at last. "Was I choosing to be gentle, or was something preventing me from speaking?"

"We cannot tell you which," Elizabeth said. "I wish we could."

Charlotte brought a towel for Jane's hands, then a cup of tea. Jane held the warm cup without drinking.

"I do not wish to become unkind merely to prove that I can," she said. "But I should like to be allowed to dislike things."