But she did not stop.

  "Miss Bennet!"

  My voice was raised in the quiet of the night and the servants would be sure to hear.

  “Elizabeth!”

  It was no use. She was gone.

  6

  Elizabeth

  My lips burned as hotly as my cheeks as I ran for the safety of the house. I could hear him calling for me.

  Calling my name from the garden, and my heart tore into pieces to hear it.

  He did not love me.

  No, that was not the worst of it.

  He could not bring himself to love me because of who my family was.

  I would never be able to explain anything of it to Jane. Poor Jane.

  In the few days she had been at Pemberley, she had developed a deep affection for Mr. Charles Bingley. I could not blame her, of course, he was everything she might have wanted in a gentleman. And nothing that could be found in the gentlemen and officers who populated Hertfordshire.

  As much as we had spoken of my own struggle to find the very deepest love, and my requirements for a husband, what Jane had wanted had never really been discussed.

  She had wanted a kind man, of course. One of learning and some reading... no gamblers, of course, and someone who could make her laugh and forget her troubles. Handsome, witty, charming, those were all expected.

  If that gentleman could be Charles Bingley, I would never argue with her choice. He was delightful, but his sisters... his sisters were a nightmare that I would not have been able to manage.

  But Jane seemed to take everything that Caroline and Louisa said in stride, and I wondered if she was just ignoring the poison that flowed from Caroline's cherry lips, or that she truly did not find it insulting or offensive.

  I hoped for Jane's sake that it was the former and not the latter.

  She was nothing like those women, and it pained me to see her keeping company with snakes.

  I rushed into the house and ran up the stairs to the bedchamber I had been given. The Rose Room. I had not even asked why it was called that... or why he had chosen it for me.

  Yesterday I might have cared.

  Tonight, it meant nothing.

  I ran to it, threw open the door, and slammed it shut behind me. I locked it and leaned back against the door, desperate for a moment of quiet. No thoughts of his cruel words, or Caroline's bitter judgements.

  No, not even of Jane's unexpected happiness.

  Just a moment where I could calm myself and replace those thoughts with something else... anything else. I breathed slowly until I could feel the rage, the pain, and the sadness, slowly recede.

  I could see my reflection in the vanity mirror. My cheeks were pink and my eyes were bright with unshed tears. I would not cry for him, or for whatever I thought I might have wanted...

  I rubbed the back of my uninjured hand across my lips to wipe away the memory of his kiss. How dare he.

  The bed had been re-made and turned down, and I contemplated just lying down and giving myself up to slumber and make the morning of our departure come all the faster.

  Instead I settled for changing into my nightgown and climbing into bed with a book I had taken from Mr. Darcy's library.

  A gentle knock on the door startled me from my reading, and Jane entered the room.

  "Lizzy, are you not coming to supper?"

  I shook my head. "No, I do not feel well at all."

  "But it is our last night at Pemberley," she said. "Are you not sad to be leaving?"

  "No," I replied. "I do not think I am. I might have been this morning, or perhaps even yesterday. But tonight I am not sad at all. I am looking forward to returning to Longbourn, out mother will have been a mess without us there to assist her."

  "I have no doubt of that," Jane said ruefully. "We have both missed the Regimental Ball, and I do not think she will forgive us very soon."

  "She might if you return with an engagement," I said and forced myself to smile. If I could find no happiness here, perhaps Jane could.

  My sister's cheeks flushed pink. "Do you really believe he might? It has not been very long at all, and Miss Bingley speaks ceaselessly of Miss Darcy and how accomplished and lovely she is. Do you think that she would prefer if Mr. Bingley married Mr. Darcy's sister instead?"

  I closed my book and regarded my sister carefully. "I have not met Miss Darcy," I said. "And from what I have heard of her, she is, indeed, a lovely an accomplished young woman. But she is very young... far too young for a gentleman such as Mr. Bingley. As much as Caroline might wish to have her family tied to Mr. Darcy's, this is not how it will happen."

  Jane sighed happily. "I do hope that you are right. Are you certain that you will not come down to supper?"

  I shook my head. "You will have to make my apologies."

  "Will you tell me what is the matter?"

  "Perhaps tomorrow," I said with a small smile.

  Jane left me alone then, and I tried my best to sleep, but even though my eyelids grew heavy, I watched the candle on the bedside table until it burned down to nothing and snuffed itself on the melted wax.

  I could not stop my need to think of what might have been, what I had hoped for in my heart, and what was now gone.

  I woke with a start to the rattle of a carriage and the sound of hooves on the gravel.

  I sat up in bed, my heart pounding.

  It was morning.

  The new day, and our journey back to Longbourn, was upon us.

  I threw off the blanket and sat up in bed as I tried to collect my thoughts. I needed to dress quickly and sneak out of the house with Jane before anyone else in the house saw us. They would have said their goodbyes at the supper table, and would not force themselves out of bed to wave to our departing carriage.

  I would not regret any of it. I refused to spend one moment more in Caroline Bingley's company than was absolutely necessary, and the less I saw of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the better.

  Jane had, thoughtfully, brought my trunk from Silverwood, and reluctantly laid aside Georgiana Darcy's beautiful gowns in favor of my own worn muslin with velvet ribbon roses at the bodice that we had made last winter.

  I dressed quickly, pulling on my gown and my boots, and hurried out of the room.

  I was not surprised to find the house quiet. Mr. Bingley and his sisters were, indeed, still in their own chambers. I could only guess that they had drunk too much the night before and were sleeping off their excess.

  I did not know if they were the sort to drink too much, but Caroline had been desperate to get Mr. Darcy to drink more than a glass of wine since the moment I had arrived, and I wondered if she had finally succeeded.

  Although I doubted that even a drunk Fitzwilliam Darcy would be an agreeable sort of gentleman. Perhaps I had finally seen the arrogance that Caroline had mentioned so often in our conversations.

  Jane and I could sneak out, and no one would be the wiser.

  The house was silent and still, the only sound was the crackling of the fire in the sitting room on the main floor.

  I waited until I saw Jane's head peek around the corner, and I hurried to join her.

  Our trunks were waiting in the courtyard and the footmen worked to secure them to the roof. Mrs. Reynolds was, of course, there to see us safely on our way, and I embraced the older woman tightly and murmured my thanks for all of her care.

  "I do hope that you will find your way back to Pemberley," she said. "You are welcome any time. I will tell Miss Georgiana all about you. I do believe that you would have been the very best of friends."

  I wondered if there might have been something else on the housekeeper's mind, but she did not say anything more.

  "I hope that I may come back this way again very soon," I said, though I did not know if I could bear to look upon this part of the country ever again.

  Jane hugged Mrs. Reynolds as well, and we climbed into the carriage. The footmen closed the door and the carriage lurched into motion. I waved to Mrs. Reynolds through the window and watched the house, halfway hoping that I might see a familiar figure, tall and aloof, in the window... but I saw nothing but the reflection of the colors of the dawn in the high windows.

  The carriage progressed up the hill, past the lake with black swans upon its glassy surface, and onward beyond the sycamore groves toward Lambton. We would stop at Silverwood to see the Darrows, and then be on our way to London. And then, home.

  Jane and I chatted easily about our time at Pemberley as the carriage rocked along, and I tried not to think of Mr. Darcy, or how his words in the garden had made me feel.

  Instead, I focused on my sister, and how happy she seemed to be.

  How could I be sad when she was so happy?

  "Charles promised that he would come to Hertfordshire," she said. "Do you think he will?"

  "I do hope so," I replied, though I was not certain that such a thing would be possible. What if Mr. Darcy had made it his mission to dissuade his friend from offering any suit to Jane as well?

  If our family was not good enough for him, how could it be good enough for Mr. Bingley?

  I shook my head and tried to banish such thoughts from my mind. A gentleman had his pride, and he must know his own mind.

  I had had my say, as I knew I should, and it was no longer my place to interfere in the matter. I recognized that.

  But I did not have to like it.

  We reached Silverwood, and the household was all abuzz with our arrival. Mrs. Darrow had heard of our time at Pemberley from Claudia, and she was more than eager to hear all that Mrs. Reynolds had to say.

  We spent the afternoon at the Darrows' house and were invited to stay on for supper, but I could not shake my restlessness.

  Thankfully, Jane had sensed my desire to press on in our journey, and we made our apologies before setting away again with fresh horses and a hamper of food for the journey.

  I had never been so eager to return to Longbourn, but now it was putting distance between myself and Mr. Darcy; that was my main concern.

  7

  Darcy

  Elizabeth had not come to supper, but I did not venture into the dining room until I was certain that she was not there. Jane Bennet was pleasant company, to be sure, but her smiles and attention were focused upon Charles, who seemed more like a smitten lad than a gentleman of five thousand a year.

  Caroline and Louisa were as sour as ever, and Caroline seemed determined to force me to drink more than two glasses of wine with my supper. I did not overindulge at meals, or any time for that matter, but there was something about how I felt that evening that made it difficult to refuse.

  The dining room was a little emptier without Elizabeth Bennet’s bright presence and her infectious laughter—the witty banter and teasing remarks were lacking, leaving only Caroline’s bitterness and Louisa’s haughty silences behind.

  When Jane took her leave of the party, there was, at once, a discussion of the Bennet sisters and I could scarcely hide my disdain for it all.

  Caroline, of course, noticed my disquiet.

  “I suppose he had enough of Miss Elizabeth at last,” Caroline observed archly. “She has a talent for inspiring strong emotions in her admirers, but she can leave them quite uncomfortable, too.”

  “Why do you suppose he is in love with her, if she makes him so uncomfortable?” Louisa asked.

  Caroline gasped dramatically. "In love with her, Louisa you cannot be serious! Mr. Darcy loves nothing so much as this house and his dear sister. I cannot imagine that he would love a country mouse like Eliza Bennet!"

  My grip tightened on the arm of my chair as I fought the urge to argue. How dare they speak in such a way--

  “She is very plain, is she not," Louisa said with a satisfied smile. It was a hideous expression on her cold, dull face.

  “I must agree," Caroline said. "if it were not for those fine eyes, she would be too plain to remark upon. But she is too bold in her way of speaking, and she does not know her place in society... A proper young lady would know how to behave around her betters."

  “Her eyes are very pretty,” Louisa added, as if she were describing a horse.

  “Too pretty,” Caroline laughed. “Can you believe that Mr. Darcy might have been foolish enough to consider asking for her hand?"

  “Surely not,” Louisa cried. "Mr. Darcy you must repudiate this at once!"

  It was difficult to keep the anger from my voice and I did not know if I would be able to control myself if I did speak.

  It was not a question of my feelings, but I had been foolish. I had allowed myself to believe that I could control my emotions, and that, perhaps, society and her place in it did not matter... But that was a lie. It would always matter.

  I had been raised to believe certain things about marriage, and about the woman that I would fall in love with. But as the years had passed and the thought of ever finding love had diminished, I thought instead of what sort of woman would be best for Pemberley.

  Elizabeth Bennet was as different from his Georgiana as could be imagined. She was wilful, proud, opinionated... changeable. Infuriating.

  She was everything he wanted in a partner.

  "I have listened to you harpies long enough," I snarled.

  I stood, pushing back my chair and nearly knocking over my untouched wine glass. I stalked out of the room, feeling the hateful glances of Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst follow me out of the room.

  “Where is he going?" Caroline asked, confused.

  “I am not sure," Louisa said.

  I didn't look back. I didn't have to.

  I paced back and forth in my chambers, trying to distract myself from my anger.

  I thought of Elizabeth and her smile, her laughter.

  It was only with her, in those brief moments where we could be alone that I felt I could truly be myself. Walking in the gardens, visiting the stables...

  I had not asked her if she felt brave enough to ride again, but I had wanted to. I had wanted to be there for that moment when she discovered that she could trust the horse to look after her.

  But worst of all, I could not keep my feelings from her.

  I wanted to be with her, to watch her smile and tease, to listen to her speak of all manner of nonsense, to hear her read poetry as we sat in the evening, sharing a glass of wine.

  How had I allowed myself to fall in love with her?

  It was almost a relief when I heard Charles Bingley's voice in the hall outside my chambers.

  I would need an excuse for my outburst and I would need to be prepared for his questions.

  “Darcy,” he called through the door.

  I had not realized that I had been pacing so quickly that I had exhausted myself. I inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, trying to regain my composure.

  “Come in,” I said as I turned to look at him.

  He opened the door and entered the room. Charles could always be counted upon to make rash decisions... He led with the heart, not with the head. He was the one who came to me for rational advice... but perhaps it was time that I asked him for some impractical advice.

  I was never so impulsive that I was unable to choose the right course, but I wondered if this time, I had not fallen victim to my own weakness for reason and rational thought.

  Elizabeth wasn’t an irrational creature, and my admiration for her felt just as wild and unfamiliar.

  “I think I have been a fool,” I began, then paused, trying to find the words.

  Charles walked across the room and poured himself a glass of brandy before sitting down opposite me. “I am always happy to listen, Darcy. You should know that by now.”

  “You have asked me many times to describe my ideal wife. The woman who would be mistress of this estate," I began. “I told you that I wanted a woman who was as intelligent and wise as she was beautiful.”

  “You are describing Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Charles said with a smile. “She is very beautiful.”

  “I fear that I have made a mockery of everything I thought I wanted,” I said. I looked into my glass, watching the amber liquid swirl. “I know that I am not perfect, and I have made many mistakes--"

  "I will stop you there, Darcy," Charles said. "Now, you must be truthful with me."

  I met his steady gaze. "Am I not always truthful with you?"

  "When it comes to matters of the heart, I do not believe that you are," Charles said.

  I chuckled and accepted the glass of bourbon he held out to me.

  “When did you grow so wise?” I asked.

  Charles smiled. "Forgive me, Darcy. I will speak plainly.”

  I nodded, bracing myself for the blow that was sure to come.

  “It is not Elizabeth's loveliness alone that has caught your eye," Charles said. "I have known you long enough to know that you are not the sort of man to be so easily swayed. But there is something more to your admiration, is there not? Something that goes beyond the physical?"

  I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it again. I knew that I could not say that I loved her. That I would have chosen her over all the ladies of my acquaintance. That I could not endure days without her smile. All of it was ridiculous.

  “You do not have to say anything," Charles said. "Your silence speaks volumes. I only ask that you take your time with this. There is a reason that you have been so particular."

  “I am very aware of the different circles that exist within the bounds of our English society," I said. "I am well aware of my duty to marry a lady of a suitable background and breeding."

  “Yes," Charles said. "But I am not referring to the rules of society.” He raised his hand when I opened my mouth to protest. “I am not lecturing,” he said. “I know very well that you choose your friends with care, and you are always mindful of your duty... But there is something to be said for the strength of your feelings, and for the love that exists between the two of you. I have seen it, even in the short time that you have known her, there is, indeed, something there. Something powerful."

 

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