Chapter 9 #2
"I disrupted everything. Caused such a scene with our departure.
Your husband's home turned upside down because I couldn't—because I—" Her tongue wouldn't dare to wrap around the truth.
Elizabeth pressed her palms against her burning cheeks.
"You should be enjoying your honeymoon, not racing back to Longbourn to tend to your disaster of a sister. "
"Elizabeth Bennet." Jane's tone held that rare note of severity she reserved for moments when her younger sisters were being particularly ridiculous. "You presented as an omega. That is hardly something you could control."
But I could have controlled what came after, Elizabeth thought miserably. I could have stayed in my room. Could have suffered through it alone instead of—
"I've ruined your happiness," she said instead. "Your first week as Mrs. Bingley, and I've made it all about me and my dramatics."
Jane actually laughed—a soft, musical sound.
"Dearest, if you think anything could ruin my happiness right now, you vastly underestimate the depth of my regard for Charles.
" Pink bloomed across her cheeks. "Besides, he's been nothing but concerned.
Keeps asking if there's anything he can send.
I think he feels responsible, as if Netherfield's walls somehow caused your presentation.
" Jane's eyes sparkled briefly before growing serious again.
"But Lizzy, there's something else I need to tell you. "
The shift in Jane's tone made Elizabeth's pulse quicken. Her sister rarely looked troubled, but now a small furrow appeared between her brows.
"What is it?"
Jane worried her lower lip—a habit from childhood that meant she was choosing her words carefully.
"Something is wrong at Netherfield. With Mr. Darcy."
The words hit like ice water. Elizabeth's stomach plummeted.
"Is he ill?"
"Not ill. But... Lizzy, he's like a caged beast. Snapping at everyone. He made Caroline cry yesterday."
"Caroline cried?" The thought should have brought satisfaction. It didn't.
Jane nodded, settling beside Elizabeth on the narrow bed.
"Caroline expressed some... confusion about your sudden presentation, and Mr. Darcy became quite severe with her.
He insisted—quite forcefully—that you were as surprised as anyone by your nature.
" Jane touched Elizabeth's hand gently. "But that's what troubles me, dearest. For him to defend you with such absolute certainty, he must have been near enough to sense. .. to know the truth of it himself."
Heat flooded Elizabeth's cheeks. Her throat worked, but no words came.
Jane continued gently, taking Elizabeth's hand.
"He's asked me multiple times if your parents have sent word of you. If you're well. Charles is worried about him. Says Darcy has impeccable control normally—he's encountered omegas in heat before without issue."
Jane paused, color rising in her own cheeks.
"Charles shared how Caroline had once used her heat to try to ensnare him.
He'd brushed off the temptation without difficulty and supposedly thought nothing more of it, once he'd addressed the situation with Charles.
But this situation with Mr. Darcy… is quite different," Jane finished, squeezing Elizabeth's hand.
"Charles says he's never seen his friend so affected. "
Elizabeth pulled her hand away, wrapping her arms around her middle. The movement sent another wave of need through her, and she bit back a whimper.
"Perhaps Mr. Darcy was simply tired of your houseguests overstaying their welcome."
"Lizzy." That gentle reproach again. "Charles said he stood at the window watching your carriage until it disappeared completely. I would not call that resentment."
Her chest went tight. There he would have stood—all that height and stillness, those coffee-dark eyes fixed on her carriage growing smaller. Relief, perhaps, that she was finally gone? Or something like regret? She would carry the question with her always, unanswered.
"Charles says…" Jane's blush deepened. "Charles suspects Darcy may be entering a rut."
The word hung between them like a struck bell. Elizabeth's mind went blank, then roared back to life with implications that made her dizzy.
"That's impossible," she managed. "Alphas don't—not unless—"
"Unless they've been exposed to a compatible omega in heat." Jane's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "A truly compatible omega."
Elizabeth's stomach lurched. She knew what Jane wasn't saying—what everyone knew but rarely spoke of.
Heat-induced ruts were vanishingly rare.
An alpha might encounter dozens of omegas in heat throughout their lifetime and never experience more than mild discomfort, perhaps a stirring of interest easily dismissed.
"Jane, that only happens when—" Elizabeth couldn't finish. When the compatibility ran so deep it transcended mere attraction. When nature itself recognised what the mind might deny.
"When the bond would be extraordinarily strong, yes." Jane's fingers tightened around hers. "Charles said he's seen Mr. Darcy around other omegas in heat before. At balls, in London. He never even flinched."
Elizabeth pressed her palm against her mouth.
Images flooded her mind unbidden—Darcy's hands shaking as he touched her, the strain in his voice as he fought for control, the way he'd pulled back at the last moment rather than claim her.
All that restraint, and now he suffered alone because of what she'd done to him.
A heat-induced rut would be agony for someone of Darcy's temperament—all that legendary control turned against him, his own body betraying every principle of propriety he held dear.
"It's my fault." The words scraped raw from her throat. "Jane, I—" Elizabeth stared at her hands, watching them twist in her lap. "Until last night, Darcy was helping me through my heat."
Jane went still.
"Darcy found me the first night." She forced herself to continue.
"In the hallway, trying to go to the kitchens, already in some heat induced delirium.
Jane, I've never been so mortified—or so grateful.
He cared for me. Never said a word about propriety or scandal.
He did not even blame me when I couldn't convince Papa to leave.
" She squeezed her eyes shut. "The last night, I threw away my dignity.
Begged him to claim me. Told him I wanted his mark, his bond, everything.
" The memory burned. "He told me to leave Netherfield immediately. "
Her shoulders shook now, tears coming hot and fast. "I love him, Jane. I love him desperately and I—he does not. I can never see him again. Promise me—promise you'll never invite me to Netherfield when he's there."
She could have been ordained by heaven as his match, and yet he would not incline himself toward her.
"Stop." Jane gripped both her hands now, fierce in her gentleness. "Whatever happened, whatever passed between you, you were in heat. Your first heat. You couldn't have known, couldn't have controlled it."
"But I went to him." The confession tore free before Elizabeth could stop it.
"I knew what I was doing, and I still…" She closed her eyes.
"You welcomed me so generously, and I repaid you by creating a situation where Mr. Darcy—your husband's closest friend—can likely never comfortably visit Netherfield again.
How will you explain it to Charles? I've poisoned their friendship, your peace, everything. "
Jane's grip on Elizabeth's hands became almost fierce—as close to anger as Jane ever came.
"Elizabeth Bennet, you will listen to me.
" Her voice held that rare steel that appeared only when defending those she loved.
"You have poisoned nothing. Charles and Mr. Darcy have weathered far worse than this, I'm sure, and the story you have told me is one that only makes me think more kindly of the gentleman, for saving you from a public compromise, at the very least."
Jane smoothed Elizabeth's hair back from her fevered brow. "Whatever happens next is between you and Mr. Darcy. But you will not take responsibility for grown men's friendships or my marriage. Those are not yours to break, dearest." She studied Elizabeth. "Did… did he hurt you?"
"No! No, he never hurt me. But where I may have once had hope, I hold none now.
" She pulled her hands away, unable to bear a touch that wasn't the one her soul called to.
"We shall never meet again. Once this"—she gestured vaguely at herself—"passes, I'll return to being nobody of consequence to him. "
"But you're not nobody to him. That much is clear."
"Oh Jane, you could find the good in a tempest that sank your ship.
" Elizabeth managed a watery laugh. "But even your generous imagination cannot transform 'leave Netherfield immediately' into a declaration of love.
Mr. Darcy has always been perfectly clear in his meanings, and I assure you, there was nothing ambiguous about his desire to be rid of me.
And if there's one thing I cannot do, I will not trap him. "
Jane tried—oh, how she tried—with all the sweet reason that had made Charles Bingley fall in love instantly. But Elizabeth had fortified herself against comfort the way a besieged city bars its gates, and no amount of gentle battering could breach her defenses.
"Very well," Jane said at last, and the words carried the weight of a promise she clearly wished she need not make. "I give you my word."
Then, because Jane was Jane and could no more leave Elizabeth to suffer alone than she could sprout wings and fly to London, she pulled her sister into her arms. Elizabeth resisted for all of three heartbeats before crumbling entirely, her tears soaking through the fine muslin of Jane's dress.
Jane held her with the patient tenderness of someone who had spent years soothing Elizabeth's rages and heartbreaks—though never one quite like this.
She stroked Elizabeth's hair and hummed wordless melodies until the storm of grief exhausted itself, until Elizabeth's breathing deepened and her body went limp with the blessed oblivion of sleep.
Sleep abandoned her in the darkest hours, tears streaming as her body cried out. Her neck unmarked, her core empty, both screaming for what he'd denied her.