11. Be Not Alarmed #2
“People change when their circumstances do,” Elizabeth countered, her fingers tracing the seal of the letter.
“In February, I was merely a gentleman’s daughter with nothing but a sharp tongue.
In April, I have fifteen thousand a year, and my godmother was his mother’s closest friend.
He crossed the garden on a Wednesday—not his usual day—just to discuss a budget he could have sent by note.
He even smiled when I told him to stop hovering.
” She pressed the letter flat against her knee, her hand trembling ever so slightly.
“Tell me, Jane—is that a change? Or is that merely… careful calculation?”
Jane set Nettle aside, reaching out to cover Elizabeth’s hand with her own. “You are being very hard on him.”
“I am being careful, Jane. Is that a crime?”
“If you truly wished for him to leave you in peace—if those sentiments of his were still as ‘disgusting’ to you as they were that day in Kent—then why does it matter so much if his motives are impure?”
Elizabeth’s breath hitched. She looked away, toward the window, where the afternoon sun was beginning to slant across the floorboards. “It matters because I must know the truth.”
“No,” Jane said, her voice dropping to a gentle, probing whisper.
“I think you are accusing him of caring for your fortune because it is a safer insult than the alternative. It is easier to believe he is a mercenary you can despise than to confront the idea that he has overcome his pride, while you are still nursing yours.”
Elizabeth snatched the letter and tucked it hurriedly into the bodice of her gown, refusing to meet her sister’s gaze.
“It matters not what you believe. The fact remains, he has been perfectly reserved. He visited today to authorize the expenditure. We are unknown to the Bond Street merchants, and he had to assure them of our ability to pay. He is attentive to Lady Sophia, who has made my education his duty. Darcy is honorable and a man of his word, nothing more.”
“And yet, I believe you like him, Lizzy.” Jane’s voice took on an uncharacteristic teasing lilt. “You light up when you talk about him. You argued with Allegra about whether he scowls, which is not a conversation anyone has with a man they find merely adequate.”
“Allegra is his natural match. She is the granddaughter of a duke. She has known him since he was thirteen. She plays the harp, knows every modiste in London, and has never once been mortified by a mother shrieking about ten thousand a year at a dinner table. I think she has feelings for him. Quiet ones, and she would keep them private. She is the right choice, the one who would not require him to overcome any objections to low connections or family manners.”
“Elizabeth, you are contradicting yourself,” Jane said. “Allegra has been clearly positioned for him. She’s of the highest circles, and he has not proposed to her despite all their years of acquaintance.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms, shaking her head.
Jane was na?ve and inclined to see the best in any situation.
“The ton will smile at us now because Lady Sophia’s name protects us, but they will whisper the moment we leave the room.
And a man like Mr. Darcy, raised to weigh every connection against the standard his father set…
” She trailed off, the thought leading to a hollow place she wasn’t ready to visit.
“But, you, Lizzy, know Darcy’s mind better than anyone,” Jane countered. The remark had a sharpness quite unlike her usual sweetness. “You have his letter, where he bared his soul. You have been studying it with the devotion of a scholar.”
“I only wish to understand the man who now dictates the terms of our entire London Season,” Elizabeth said, her voice rising in defensive tempo.
“My gratitude to Lady Sophia, however, means I must acknowledge her inner circle—including Miss Courtenay, who has been exceptionally gracious. She is warm and generous, and has never once made us feel like country relations. She is precisely the sort of woman Darcy would be expected to admire.”
“If you say so.” Jane began to plait a strand of Elizabeth’s hair.
Her movements were gentle and practiced—pull, cross, smooth—a calming rhythm that Elizabeth usually found soothing, but which now felt like a countdown.
“You’ve described the perfect woman in meticulous detail, for a man you claim to be indifferent to.
You’ve argued your case with the ferocity of a prisoner fighting a hanging judge. ”
Jane finished the plait and placed her hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders, meeting her gaze in the mirror.
“I know you. I’ve known you my entire life.
When you’re indifferent to a man, you dismiss him in a sentence and give him no further thought.
When you care, you construct an elaborate fortress of reasons why you shouldn’t, and then defend it with all your might.
The sheer scale of that masonry is always directly proportional to the depth of your feelings. ”
The indictment left Elizabeth with a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.
She viewed the stack of invitations on her writing desk.
Lady Harewood’s musicale. A card from Lady Matlock.
Three morning calls to return. A dinner invitation from someone whose name she couldn’t pronounce.
The Season was descending upon her like a storm, and she would need help finding her way through the gale.
While the man she sat across the ledgers from would never apply himself.
Elizabeth managed a weary smile, softer than her usual bravado. “It grows late, dearest. You should rest.”
Jane lingered, her gaze gentle and searching. “Lizzy, you have not answered me.”
Elizabeth reached for levity, though her voice wavered. “You did not truly ask a question, Jane. You offered a challenge, wrapped in metaphor. And you know too well I am hopeless at defending my heart when you are the one prying.”
A fond silence passed between them, the kind only sisters could share at the close of a long, tangled day. Jane took Elizabeth’s hand, squeezing it with warmth. “You told him to stop hovering?”
Elizabeth nodded, her lips quirking despite herself. “I did.”
Jane’s eyes brightened. “And there was a look.”
Elizabeth hesitated, the memory of that brief, unguarded heat in the study rushing back. “He… his expression changed. It was unexpected.”
Jane squeezed her hand once more, then kissed her cheek. “And you smiled back, Lizzy. That is all I wished to know.”
Elizabeth’s heart fluttered with something perilously close to hope. Jane gave a knowing, private nod and closed the door behind her.
Nettle claimed the warm spot Jane had vacated.
Elizabeth blew out the candle, lay down in the darkness, and listened to the tinkling of Mary’s pianoforte drifting up through the floorboards—the Clementi, practiced and re-practiced with the devotion of a girl who had discovered something worth devoting herself to.
Through the wall, from Number 34, she heard nothing because she wasn’t listening for anything at all. And she was not thinking about the man who seemed determined to disrupt her thoughts and her composure with his relentless presence.