Chapter 22 #2
Elizabeth blanched. He really must have valued his time the night before with Caroline but had not wanted to appear too eager when he first entered the room. Why else would he avoid Elizabeth? He had sought her out the evening before and had always sat next to her when possible the previous year.
After a few moments, Elizabeth realized she was being absurd. They were only five people. By returning to the group, he was not avoiding her or anyone else. She noticed Caroline was speaking to Jane of the event they would attend this evening and shook off her silly thoughts.
“I have it on good authority that Mr. Criffel will be at the ball tonight,” she was saying. “I will introduce you, Jane, as I am sure you will get on well with him.”
Jane smiled, though Elizabeth detected a tightening around her eyes. She realized Mr. Darcy was inspecting Jane’s reaction, as well, before sighing and turning away.
“Mr. Criffel?” Mr. Bingley said. “Who is that, Caroline? I have never heard of him.”
“Oh, have you not? He is a friend of a schoolmate, and I am told he has a small estate in Devonshire,” Caroline replied.
Elizabeth knew her friend wanted someone wealthier for her brother, so it could be seen as a kindness that she was attempting to help Jane find someone else, rather than abruptly ending their acquaintance, as she could have done.
Perhaps she had been unsuccessful in talking her brother out of his choice.
Mr. Bingley had given in to his sister’s wishes constantly when Elizabeth first knew them.
She could talk him into changing plans with his own friends if Caroline wanted him to take them to walk in a park or play cards.
Elizabeth, in her childish innocence of two years ago, had once asked him why he did not think himself important enough to ever come first. He had been surprised by her question, then thoughtful.
She had noticed that after that, Caroline did not get her way every time she asked.
Elizabeth thought it had been good for both of them.
“Are you to be a matchmaker, then, Miss Bingley?” Mr. Darcy asked derisively. “Have you found someone suitable for Miss Elizabeth, too? Perhaps a tenant farmer? Or are you going to help her secure a position as a governess?”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide as she heard gasps around her; one of them was her own. Was Mr. Darcy insulting Caroline or herself? Or perhaps both?
“Excuse me,” Mr. Darcy said as he rose and stiffly bowed at the shoulders before stalking out of the room without looking at any of them.
Everyone remained quiet as though expecting him to return.
As though imagining he had not said those words, and they all could go back to how they had been before.
And then everyone was looking at her—with pity.
“I am sure he meant nothing by it,” Mr. Bingley was saying. “He was in an odd mood today, as you saw before he said anything.”
Elizabeth nodded numbly. They all took Mr. Darcy’s words to be aimed at herself, not at Caroline’s dismal matchmaking skills.
Why had he pointed such a barb at her? Although these details had never come up between them, she had never misled him, and she assumed he knew of Papa Oliver last year.
But he had still been her friend, had he not?
Why would he speak so now? Her eyes burned, and she realized she was about to cry.
She gave a faltering smile and went to play the pianoforte in the other corner of the room.
There, she could recover from her injured feelings alone until Jane was ready to return to Gracechurch Street.
She prayed it would be earlier than usual, as she was developing a megrim.
The next morning, the pain in her head felt no better. When Jane returned alone from her morning with Caroline and Mr. Bingley, she gently knocked on her door.
“Come in,” Elizabeth said weakly.
“How are you feeling, Lizzy?” her cousin asked, genuine concern in her voice.
Elizabeth only shrugged.
“Mr. Bingley wanted me to send his best wishes for your recovery,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“Mr. Darcy did not attend the ball last night, either, Lizzy,” Jane continued. “Mr. Bingley said he received a note early this morning from him. He departed for his estate today.”
“Mr. Darcy has already gone to Pemberley?”
Elizabeth had hoped all would be resolved between them when they saw each other the next morning.
He must truly be avoiding her. What had she done to offend him so?
He had defended her right to visit with their friends last year, had showed her the menagerie, had spoken and danced with her cheerfully two nights ago, and then he had insulted her so cruelly the next day.
His leaving for Pemberley surely had nothing to do with her.
Perhaps he had received bad news from his estate that had put him in a sour mood before his visit, and then he had realized he would need to go immediately to deal with the situation.
That was the only possible explanation, as she had no influence over him.
But what news could have been bad enough for him to lash out at her?
Perhaps his friendship had been an illusion. What had she heard Uncle Gardiner say? “Great men are often a little whimsical in their civilities.” Had this been what he had meant?
“Did any of you say something to Mr. Darcy at the dinner party about my…my father?” Elizabeth asked Jane.
“No, of course not. At least, I heard no such conversation. He and Caroline were together much of the evening, as you saw and heard, so she may have said something to him.”
“Thank you for looking in on me. I think I would like to rest now.” Elizabeth turned away from her cousin and pulled her quilt up to her chin.
Once Jane had left the room and closed the door, she cried again.
Caroline had not been the best friend to her, but Elizabeth never expected she would sink so low as to spread gossip and lies about her simply to raise herself in Mr. Darcy’s esteem.
Caroline knew only that Elizabeth’s father had been a farmer, poorer than Uncle Bennet.
She had never told her of Aunt Bennet’s claims that he was a tenant farmer, although he may have been, and she had not told her she knew she may end up as a governess.
Jane must have told Caroline! Elizabeth was angry with Jane at first, but she expected her cousin thought Caroline knew Elizabeth well enough to know those things already.
If Caroline had asked innocent questions framed in the scheming way she sometimes had, Jane would have thought nothing of sharing these details.
But why had Jane not admitted she had told Caroline?
Instead, she only shifted all blame to her friend.
It seemed Elizabeth could not trust Mr. Darcy, Caroline, or even Jane.
She would not lose her cousin again over this, however, even if they could not be as close as she would have liked.
She knew Jane’s motives could not have been malicious.
She would never be as cruel as Caroline—Miss Bingley—or, as she must now admit, as unfeeling as Mr. Darcy.
She would be careful never to trust her cousin with any secrets, however.
As awful as the day before had been, it at least showed her that neither her cousin nor her friends knew she was illegitimate.
If they had known or even suspected, Mr. Darcy surely would have included that information in his insult.