Chapter 15
Fifteen
Jane faltered for several moments, her gaze fixed upon her clasped hands, as though she could not compel herself to speak. At last, in a voice scarcely above a whisper, she said, “Aunt Gardiner spoke of it upstairs with mama. But, also… before you arrived, I… I had a letter from Caroline.”
Elizabeth rose at once, suddenly unable to remain still. She crossed the room, then turned and crossed it again, her steps measured but restless, until at last she stopped and drew in a slow, steadying breath.
“I will not ask what that harpy said,” she began, though the very mention of the letter had stirred a sharp, unbidden anger within her. She pressed her fingers briefly together, as if to contain her feelings. “But there are two or three things which I think you ought to know.”
She paused again, mastering herself before she continued.
“I met Mr Darcy again at Pemberley, and our arrival was entirely unplanned. Though I had not wished to visit—feeling it quite improper to call at the estate of a man I believed myself so mistaken about—my aunt and uncle were resolved upon it, and I would not disappoint them. As we walked through the grounds, I encountered him. He was as surprised as I was, yet he greeted me with every civility.”
Resuming her pacing, although walking more slowly now, her tone was steadier as she went on.
“He enquired after my family, and showed the greatest attention to my aunt and uncle. The following day, he called at the inn where we were staying, bringing Miss Darcy—and Mr Bingley—with him. My aunt and I returned the call the next day, while my uncle went out with the gentlemen. We spent much of the day with Miss Darcy, though Miss Bingley made her displeasure at my presence quite evident.” Elizabeth’s lips pressed together briefly.
“Miss Darcy was much affected by it; yet, before we left, we were invited to dine the following evening.”
Hesitating briefly, her hand came to rest against the back of a chair.
“That dinner did not take place. The next morning, Mr Darcy came to the inn shortly after I had received your letters. Although I had wished to read them immediately, he asked me to walk with him, and I believed your letters might wait an hour.” A faint colour rose in her cheeks at the recollection.
“During that walk, we were able… to come to a better understanding. He told me that his feelings were unchanged—and that he still wished to court me.”
Elizabeth’s voice softened at this memory, though her composure held. Her pacing continued again, slower than it had been, but still clearly agitated.
“We spoke plainly. I told him that I had no need of a formal courtship, for I already knew my own mind. We became engaged then. While he spoke with my uncle, I read your letters, and—of course—I offered to release him, for we did not know what awaited me here. But he would not hear of it.” She lifted her gaze to Jane’s, steady and resolute.
“He was determined. He said he had lived without me as long as he had any desire to do so, and that nothing would prevent him from marrying me, now that I had consented.”
Elizabeth drew in a breath, then released it slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders as she at last grew still.
“We parted company shortly after that, with Fitzwilliam returning to Pemberley to make arrangements to accompany us with Georgiana. I asked him to say nothing to the Bingleys about the reason for our sudden departure, though I imagine they may have drawn their own conclusions—which is, no doubt, what Miss Bingley has conveyed to you. I had little doubt that, had Fitzwilliam spoken openly of the matter to Mr Bingley, Miss Bingley would soon be apprised of the matter. As I did not know what might await us at Longbourn, I thought it best that as few as possible should suspect the potential for scandal.”
She paused, watching Jane closely, the pieces settling into place.
“Then it was from her that you formed your opinion,” Elizabeth said, more quietly than a moment before—but with a steadiness that carried more weight than a raised voice.
She straightened, and her tone sharpened as she continued.
“Knowing that she is clearly not your friend, how could you accept anything she wrote without question? She has not written to you in months—could you not suspect some ill intent in her writing now?”
“I… I believe now she may have dissembled,” Jane said, her voice unsteady.
“But you did not believe so until it was pointed out to you,” Elizabeth returned, unable to check the heat rising in her tone. “When I arrived, you trusted what was written in that letter. You doubted me—your own sister. Why, Jane?”
Jane’s hands tightened where they lay in her lap, twisting together until, with a sudden motion, she rose. For a moment she turned away, as though she might master herself—but when she faced Elizabeth again, whatever restraint she had attempted was gone.
“Because everything comes so easily to you!” she burst out, her voice sharper than Elizabeth had ever heard it.
“You speak of being my dearest sister, yet you have never needed me as I have needed you. You form attachments wherever you go—you confide in others—” She broke off, her breath uneven, then pressed on.
“And now—now you have your dear Fitzwilliam.” The faint mockery in her tone startled Elizabeth, who had never before heard her sister speak in such a manner.
“You will leave me,” she said, the words breaking from her before she could restrain them.
“You will go—just as the others do—and I am to remain, to endure all that is left behind.” Her voice faltered, but she pressed on.
“I am the eldest. Mama has always said it was my duty to save the family by marrying well, and yet—I have never even had the advantage of a proposal to refuse. Those who have shown me attention have all left me, once they have seen how our family behaves.”
She drew in a trembling breath, her gaze fixed upon Elizabeth with an expression at once wounded and searching.
“How, then, can Mr Darcy truly wish to marry you, after seeing what our family has done? You said that he was dismissive of them in April, but now, when Lydia has nearly ruined us, how can he still wish to marry into our family?”
Stopping abruptly, Jane appeared to be startled by her own words; yet the colour in her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes did not abate.
Elizabeth stood quite still, the force of her sister’s accusation rendering her, for a moment, unable to reply. When she did speak, her voice was steadier than she felt.
“Had I wished it, I might have insisted that, if Mr Darcy truly desired to marry me, we would do so in Derbyshire. A common licence could have been obtained, and we might have been married at Pemberley, without troubling ourselves to return home at all.” She held Jane’s gaze.
“I came back, Jane, because this is my family—and because you said you needed me.”
“I do need you, Lizzy,” Jane returned, though the sharpness had not wholly left her tone, “but you have spent this entire day speaking only of him, and of your plans. You will still marry and go, and I shall remain—left to hear Mama’s complaints for the rest of my life.”
“But you do not have to,” Elizabeth insisted, taking a step closer, her hands lifting slightly as though she might reach for Jane, before she thought better of it.
“You have been invited to London—and to Pemberley. Lydia will go away to school; Uncle intends to ensure that Papa writes to enquire about a placement for her. If you are resolved to remain here, then Kitty may go to London, and Mary may be invited to join Georgiana at Pemberley. But, if you wish it, you may choose either place for yourself as well.” She paused, her expression softening, though her tone remained earnest. “Papa may engage a companion for Mama—and for any of my sisters who remain. If fewer of us are at home, he can easily afford it.”
Turning away, Jane moved a few steps towards the window, her hands clasping tightly together. “And what will Mama do,” she asked, her voice low but strained, “when all her daughters desert her?”
Although Elizabeth followed her, she kept a small distance between them, unwilling to stand too near, as her own anger was scarcely contained.
“Has she not always wished for us all to marry?” she returned.
“There is no one here for us to meet, and the behaviour of Mama—and of our youngest sisters—does little to recommend us to any gentleman.” She hesitated, then went on, more quietly, “Yes, men have been dissuaded because of our family. Charlotte and I both urged you to show a little more of your feelings for Mr Bingley, but you would not.”
Jane’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of her former beau, but she did not turn.
Drawing in a slow breath, Elizabeth watched her sister closely, unable to wholly calm herself. She was still angry—she could not deny it—but even so, she could see how deeply her sister was affected.
“I can tell you, with some certainty, that he still cares for you. He showed particular interest whenever your name was mentioned—but, if he does return to Netherfield, it seems unlikely he will ever offer unless he has reason to believe his regard is returned.” Elizabeth paused, her hands tightening together before she forced them still.
“I had hoped that, after I marry, you might have an opportunity to meet him again—but I begin to wonder whether that is even what you wish, if you are so determined to remain here with Mama.”
She had scarcely finished speaking before she saw Jane’s shoulders falter, the tension draining from them all at once. A moment later, her sister’s composure gave way entirely, and she turned aside, covering her face as she began to weep.