Chapter 23
Although Elizabeth kept her eyes on Jane, she watched Robinson in her periphery until he disappeared, and she listened for his step until it, too, faded.
His steadiness comforted her more than anything else she could imagine.
She may have effectively dismissed him from the room, but she already anticipated his return and the peace his presence brought to her heart.
Jane understood none of this. She fixed Elizabeth with a stony glare, expressing her disapproval without a word. Elizabeth resisted the urge to tuck his handkerchief behind her back. She had done nothing wrong.
Once the front door squeaked closed behind him, Jane spoke. “You will stay away from Mr. Robinson.” It was a command, firmly delivered.
Elizabeth balked at the ignorance of her sister’s demand. “Mr. Robinson requires my assistance on an urgent matter that is affecting our household as we speak. For your sake, I cannot avoid his company until the trouble has been resolved.”
Jane stretched up. “Trouble? Papa has told me of no trouble.” True, Elizabeth had done her best to conceal the evidence of the predicament they were in, but she found it difficult to believe that Jane did not have some suspicion that something was awry.
How else could she explain Papa’s sudden need for a secretary?
How else could she explain the hours of time Elizabeth had spent bent over ledgers and sorting through rooms at Longbourn over the past two weeks?
Father had done them a grave disservice, keeping them in obscurity. The news might have been broken to them gently a week ago. But now? With Mr. Voles and the bailiff on the property?
Jane’s gaze hardened. “If we were truly in some difficulty, Papa would have told me, his firstborn. As his eldest and most sensible daughter, he would have confided in me so that I might tell Mama in the gentlest way possible.”
Elizabeth said nothing. Jane was the eldest, and she was decidedly less inclined to excitement than anyone else in the household, including Elizabeth.
But Papa had not confided in Jane. He had not sought her counsel.
Papa had done nothing. They could not trust him to look after their best interests, so it was left to Elizabeth to do what she could to protect her family until this whole, ugly affair was sorted…
or until she married Mr. Darcy. A violent shiver ran through her.
Now that she knew the feel of a good man’s arms protecting her, supporting her, she craved freedom from that arrangement.
“I will join you in the drawing room,” she said, trying to push past Jane, wanting nothing more of this conversation.
Jane blocked her path, grabbing her arm firmer than was necessary. Elizabeth attempted to tug free, but her sister’s grip tightened. “You will not ruin our prospects, Lizzy. I will not let you.”
“You have nothing to worry about, Jane.”
Jane’s grip bruised Elizabeth’s arm. “I saw you together. I saw how he looked at you.” Elizabeth’s heart somersaulted. To smile would be the height of foolishness, and yet she struggled to keep her lips from curling upward.
Assuming her most indifferent expression, Elizabeth raised her eyes to meet Jane’s. “Mr. Robinson was acting as a friend would in our situation. You do not know everything, and I am to blame for it. As soon as Mr. Wickham is gone, I shall tell you what has happened.”
Finally, her sister released her hold. Elizabeth's skin throbbed where Jane’s fingers had dug into her flesh.
She rubbed her hand over it until the sting subsided.
When she glanced over at Jane, she saw no evidence of remorse or sympathy.
It was strange, but it occurred to Elizabeth that she resembled Miss Bingley—a terrible thought that she instantly rejected.
Her sister acted out of ignorance. Once she understood their situation, she would soften toward Robinson.
Mr. Wickham was in the middle of a lively tale when Elizabeth walked into the drawing room. His narrative came to an abrupt end when he saw her, his grin melting and his brow furrowing in concern. She ought to have washed her face before joining them. She must look a sight.
“Miss Elizabeth, what a pleasure it is to see you. I was telling your charming family how I hoped to see you before making my departure.”
Wishing he had rather gone, she said, “Do not delay your departure on my account.”
“Lizzy!” Mama hissed. “Mr. Wickham is always welcome at Longbourn. We would not have him think differently.”
Elizabeth bit the insides of her cheeks.
She was not angry at him but at Jane… and her father…
and perhaps, a little bit, at herself. What had she been thinking, seeking comfort in Robinson’s embrace when she was betrothed to another?
She had found solace in the constant thrum of his heartbeat, had been overjoyed to hear Jane’s remark about how Robinson had looked at her.
Therein lay the problem. Robinson could never be more to her than a friend, and her heart told her that was not enough.
More than anything, she wished she could talk to him.
He was the only person who understood their troubles, who would help her—had helped her so much already.
She wished it was him paying a social call instead of Mr. Wickham, that it was his smile she returned, and his conversation she could enjoy.
If she had become proficient at anything, it was in concealing her sentiments. “My apologies, Mr. Wickham. I am not myself right now.”
He nodded understandingly, his eyes brimming with sympathy.
“I saw two gentlemen go out to the stables with your father and his secretary.” Elizabeth forced a smile, determined to do nothing to alarm her family while he was in their company.
How much longer would he stay? Surely he had exhausted the time allowed for a proper call. She looked at the clock on the mantel.
Mr. Wickham remained standing, swooping another bow. “I apologize for the brevity of my call, but I am expected elsewhere and must make my departure.” Instant protests arose from around the room, and Jane cast Elizabeth an accusatory glare.
In a solemn tone, he addressed Elizabeth, “If you need any assistance, any at all, I am at your service.” Silence fell over the others, accompanied by confused looks and mutterings. It was a kind offer, and she thanked him for it.
He left, and all eyes looked to her for an explanation, a mixture of curiosity and varying degrees of irritation. “What is happening, Lizzy?” and “Why are those strange men here?” and “How could you allow Mr. Wickham to leave?” all came out at once.
She raised her palms to calm them, at a loss for words.
How was she supposed to say that there was a good possibility they would lose Longbourn, that they had no more pin money, that once their neighbors learned of the bailiff’s call, they would likely be shunned, their reputations ruined because of a scandal that could so easily have been prevented?
That the government considered Papa a criminal who owed them a large debt they could never repay?
Simplifying it all as much as she could, she said, “Papa owes the government a large debt. These men are here to see what might be sold to repay it.”
“Oh, that is all!” Lydia heaved, waving her hand dismissively.
“Debt? What debt?” asked Mama.
Elizabeth explained the secret partnership, assuring them that they would prove that the partnership had been extended illegally without Papa’s agreeing to it.
Mary caught on first. She ran her hand over her beloved instrument, her eyes filling with tears.
Lydia turned to Mama. “Was it not clever of Papa to employ a handsome secretary to assist him with this unpleasant business?” Kitty giggled, and Jane’s nostrils flared.
Heedless of the disruption her comment made, Lydia continued with a dismissive wave, “With so many gentlemen to assist him, Papa will have the matter sorted by the end of the day.”
Elizabeth shook her head. She did not wish to contradict her youngest sister’s well-intended optimism, but it was wrong to allow them false hope.
“It is true that Mr. Robinson has done everything to prove that this is all a terrible misunderstanding, but we have yet to find sufficient evidence to prove that Papa is innocent.”
In the cacophony that followed, Jane’s clear voice rose through the debates about justice and right and wrong.
“This is merely a temporary inconvenience. Pray do not distress yourselves. Lizzy will marry Mr. Darcy, and he will settle the debt. We shall be quite comfortable in Derbyshire, and any damage to our reputations will be overshadowed by the family’s name.
Their status among the first circles is the greatest protection we could have. ”
“But what if Mr. Darcy never appears?” asked Kitty, voicing everyone’s fear… and Elizabeth’s hope.
Mama squared her shoulders. “Jane is correct, girls. Lizzy will save us. Mr. Darcy cannot inherit without her, and no gentleman would risk losing his inheritance over such a trifling matter as his choice of bride.”
Only Mary considered the possibility that Mr. Darcy might not wish to attach himself to a ruined family.
They hushed her in favor of a more exciting discussion of ball gowns, music, and the delights they imagined they would experience.
Elizabeth’s face burned. Every word was a slap in the face.
For years, she had dreamed that her family might allow her to choose her own future, to pursue her own happiness, but in that moment she understood how completely they hung their own happiness on her sacrifice.
The injustice of it weighed on her shoulders and stung her eyes.
“If you will excuse me, I should see if I might assist Papa,” she mumbled. Nobody but Mary listened.