Chapter 14
14
E lizabeth had imagined leaving Rosings Park under very different circumstances.
For hours, she had believed she would leave in secrecy, under the cover of darkness, with Mr. Darcy by her side, his hand in hers, their path unknown but shared.
Then she has assumed that she and Mr. Darcy would discuss a more reputation friendly type arrangement, that perhaps he would begin an open courtship.
Instead, she was leaving alone—at her father’s request, summoned home to Longbourn, where he said she belonged.
Darcy had not asked her to stay.
But he had promised. He had grasped her hands, held her close, whispered his vow against her hair as they had stood beneath the trellis one last time.
"I will come to you."
She believed him.
She had to believe him.
And yet—as the carriage rattled down the long drive, as Rosings Park faded into the distance, a strange, uneasy feeling settled in her chest.
It felt wrong to leave him behind.
What if something changed?
What if, now that she was gone, he did not come after all?
By the time Elizabeth arrived at Longbourn, she had pushed the thought away, burying it beneath the immediacy of her family’s needs.
Kitty was worse than before.
The moment Elizabeth stepped into the house, she felt the shift in the air—the weight of worry and exhaustion pressing down upon everyone within.
Her mother was beside herself, wringing her hands, pacing the halls, muttering about the cruelty of fate.
Jane, ever the calm and steady one, sat beside Kitty’s bed, wiping her sister’s brow, whispering soothing reassurances even as her eyes shone with quiet fear.
Elizabeth’s chest tightened painfully.
"I should not have been gone so long." She pushed the guilt aside, taking Kitty’s fragile hand in hers.
Her sister’s eyes fluttered open, her lips curving weakly. "Lizzy," she murmured.
Elizabeth forced a smile, though her heart clenched at how thin and pale Kitty had become. "I am here," she whispered, pressing a kiss to Kitty’s damp forehead.
And she meant it.
She would not leave again.
Not until she was sure her sister would recover.
Days turned to weeks.
And yet—there was no word from Darcy. And no word of a physician from Lady Catherine as she had promised. Elizabeth told herself not to worry about Darcy.
She reminded herself that he was a man with responsibilities. That he could not simply abandon his affairs to ride across the country the moment she had gone.
But as the days stretched on, as the third week slipped past without a single letter, without a single word?—
Doubt began to creep in.
Had she imagined it all?
Had she misunderstood?
"I will come to you," he had said. "I will find a way."
Then where was he?
Days later she took herself to Meryton for a rest from the heaviness at home. She and Jane made their way first to purchase some linens for Kitty’s bedside.
At first, she had barely noticed the chattering women gathered near the window, their voices high and eager, their heads bent in conspiratorial delight.
But then—she heard his name.
"Mr. Darcy, engaged?!"
Elizabeth froze. Her fingers tightened around the fabric in her hands, her breath caught painfully in her throat.
"Yes! It has been settled at last, just as Lady Catherine always intended!"
"To Miss Anne de Bourgh, of course! It was only a matter of time!"
"They say the wedding will take place before the end of the summer?—"
Elizabeth heard nothing else.
The world blurred around her, the voices fading into distant echoes, the edges of her vision swimming with disbelief.
This could not be true.
It could not.
And yet—what if it was?
What if this had been his plan all along?
What if, while she had been waiting for him, he had already moved on?
What if everything he had said to her had been a lie?
A sharp, shattering pain sliced through her chest, but she forced herself to breathe, to stand, to hold herself together.
She would not break.
Not here.
Not in front of them.
She turned stiffly to Jane, her voice far too steady, too hollow.
"I have everything I need," she said. "Let’s go home."
And without another word—she left.