Wickham’s Shadow #3
Before Mrs Bennet could devise another objection, Jane led Elizabeth upstairs. Once the bedroom door was closed, she took both Elizabeth’s hands.
“Lady Selbourne said there had been an accident at Rosings.”
“Yes.”
“She said Mr Wickham was dead, and that you had saved Anthony. She would tell us little more.”
“There was little she could say in front of the children.”
“Were you hurt?”
“No.”
Jane’s fingers tightened around hers. “Then how did you save him?”
“Mr Wickham came upon us in the garden. He was looking for Mr Darcy. Anthony ran to fetch Lady Catherine.”
“And Mr Wickham?”
“He tried to stop him. I stepped between them.”
Jane released her hands. “You stepped between a grown man and a child?”
“He had drawn a pistol.”
Jane sat down abruptly upon the window seat. “A pistol?”
“Yes.”
“And you placed yourself before it?”
“There was no one else near enough.”
Jane stared at her. “Mr Wickham? No. There must have been some misunderstanding.”
“There was none.”
“But why would he threaten Anthony? He is a child.”
“He had not come for Anthony. He came looking for Mr Darcy.”
“And you?”
“I was with the children.”
Jane shook her head. “Lizzy, Mr Wickham was charming to everyone at Meryton. He spoke so warmly of his family. I cannot understand it.”
“Neither did I, once.”
Jane gripped the edge of the window seat. “Then he might have killed you.”
“He did not.”
“But he might have. Lizzy, he might have…”
“He might have,” Elizabeth agreed gently. “He did not. Lady Catherine came.”
“Lady Catherine.” Jane seized on the name. “What could Lady Catherine do?”
Elizabeth was silent. Jane was the sister she had promised, but some parts of what had happened were not hers to reveal.
“She stopped him.”
“How?”
“I cannot tell you that.”
Jane turned towards her. “You cannot tell me?”
“There are parts of what happened which belong to others. They are not mine to repeat.”
“But you promised you would tell me if it became unsafe.”
“And I have. Everything that is mine to tell.” Elizabeth sat beside her and took her hands. “Mr Wickham threatened me. Lady Catherine prevented him from doing further harm, and the magistrate and coroner were satisfied that no one had acted wrongly. I need you to trust me about the rest.”
Jane searched her face. “And it is truly over?”
“Yes.”
“And you are not in any danger now?”
“None.”
Jane looked down at their joined hands before nodding.
“Then I shall not ask again.”
“Thank you.”
“But, Lizzy, you stood before a pistol for a child who is no relation to you. You might have died, and none of us would have known why or where. You would simply not have come home.”
Her voice failed. Elizabeth moved closer.
“I sat here all winter believing you were unhappy about Mr Darcy,” Jane continued. “I was sometimes cross with you for keeping so much from me. And all that time you were carrying this alone.”
“You could not have known.”
“No. But I might have made it easier. Had you been able to tell me, I might have carried some of it.”
“You did carry some of it. You believed me when I asked you to trust me, even when I could give you no explanation. That mattered.”
Jane’s face crumpled. Elizabeth drew her into her arms and held her until Jane drew back and wiped her eyes.
“Mama will think I have been scolding you,” Jane said with an unsteady laugh.
“She will be at the door presently to discover what offence could require so long a reprimand.”
Jane smiled, though her eyes remained wet.
“Lady Selbourne said Mr Darcy would come to Hertfordshire.”
“He will.”
“To see you?”
“Yes.”
Jane studied her. “You are very certain.”
“He told me he would come.”
“And you believe him.”
“I do.”
“What will you say when he does?”
“That must depend upon what he says.”
“Lizzy.”
Elizabeth looked down at their joined hands. “If he asks what I believe he means to ask, I shall say yes.”
Jane’s expression softened. “You love him.”
“Yes.”
“I thought you did.”
“You never said so.”
“Neither did you.”
Elizabeth glanced towards the door. “There was never a useful time to say it.”
“Does he know?”
“No. I have not told him.”
“Then perhaps you should.”
Elizabeth raised her brows.
Jane continued, “Are you afraid he will not come?”
“No.”
“Then what are you afraid of?”
Elizabeth looked towards the window. The drive lay empty in the morning light.
“That we have both grown too accustomed to speaking around the truth.”
“Then do not speak around it when he comes.”
Elizabeth drew a slow breath. “No. I do not mean to.”
Mrs Bennet’s voice rose from below, calling to ask whether Jane intended to remain upstairs all morning when she had scarcely touched her breakfast. Elizabeth laughed, and the ease of it surprised her.
“We had better go down.”
Jane linked their arms. “He will come.”
“I know.”
“And when he does?”
Elizabeth opened the door. “I shall tell him the truth.”
Jane remained where she was. “What truth?”
Elizabeth looked at her sister. After all the months of caution, the words required very little courage.
“That I love him,” she said. “And that he need not hide what he wants from me any longer.”
Jane smiled. “Then I think he will be very glad he came.”