was unsettled when he saw Elizabeth. At times he appeared to be almost distracted; he looked at her as though he wished to say something to her, but then abruptly changed his mind.
He was polite and affable toward Miss Darcy, but Elizabeth clearly noticed the lack of intensity in his attentions to her. And Miss Darcy, although very polite, seemed even less outward in her regard for him than Jane ever had been. Perhaps Elizabeth was only seeing things the way she wished to see them.
She sat down on her bed and stared absently at the wall for a short time as she made an attempt to sort out her feelings. Another wave of disappointment flooded through her, swirling around with anger. She was greatly disappointed that Mr. Bingley had toyed with Jane’s heart, and had obviously taken and heeded the advice of his good friend.
She turned her head briskly to the side, stifling a sob.
She consoled herself with the fact that she and Jane were in good homes and had pleasant wards. Jane had always enjoyed caring for the Gardiner children. Elizabeth could find no fault with the Willstones or Emily, but she was all too aware that it was a step down in society’s eyes for both of them. She could only imagine that after tonight’s visit, Mr. Darcy would come to know of it from his sister or Bingley. She pulled her feet up onto the bed and lay her head down on the pillow.
She often chided herself that as Mr. Darcy’s wife, she would have had it in her power to undo his one terrible injustice. As Mr. Bingley was his best friend and Jane was her sister, they would have had numerous opportunities to meet again and restore what they once had. Hence, Jane would likely be the one to marry Mr. Bingley instead of Miss Darcy. That was her one true regret in refusing him.
In the short time she was downstairs, Elizabeth had watched Miss Darcy, out of curiosity and a determination to find fault with her. Wickham had characterized her as proud, yet she saw nothing of that. Miss Darcy seemed a sweet, yet shy girl, and Elizabeth could not, in all honesty, blame Mr. Bingley for forming an attachment to her.
She pounded a fist onto her pillow. “But he loved Jane! I am certain of it!” Her fervent whisper was expelled forcefully from deep within her. She buried her head into the pillow, which acted as a handkerchief, catching the lone tear that slid down her cheek.
She lay there motionless for a while, and finally, after a few moments, Elizabeth arose and slowly changed into her nightdress. She occasionally heard laughter or an outburst from the party downstairs. It distressed her to hear such joviality, knowing the pain it would instil in Jane once she was informed of their betrothal. It troubled her that she would be the one who would have to tell Jane before she heard it from someone else through some other means.
“Oh, Jane,” she whispered to herself. “You are the last person in the world that I would want to hurt with such information.”
She climbed into her bed after snuffing out the candle. With her eyes wide open, she stared upward in the darkened room and listened as the voices grew faint. At length, with the sound of a distant door closing, Elizabeth assumed that the guests had finally departed.
She rolled over and hoped that she would be able to sleep, putting tonight’s events out of her mind, but the insistent pounding of her heart and her turbulent thoughts did little to aid in her wish.
After a few minutes, there was a soft tap at Elizabeth’s door. She opened her eyes. “Yes?”
“Elizabeth, it is Rosalyn. May I come in?”
Elizabeth sat up in her bed, moving a strand of hair that had fallen across her face and wiping any telltale sign of a tear from her cheek.
“Yes, Rosalyn, do come in,” Elizabeth answered as cheerfully as she could, but truly wishing to be left alone.
Rosalyn walked in holding a candle. A soft glow lit both ladies’ faces.
“I am so sorry to disturb you, Elizabeth. Were you already asleep?”
“No, no, Rosalyn. I only now just slipped into bed. The guests are gone, I presume?”
“Yes,” Rosalyn answered and looked down at her hands. She looked up expectantly at Elizabeth as if she wished to say something.
“What is it, Rosalyn?”
“Is it… is it really true, Elizabeth?”
Although Elizabeth had not fallen asleep yet, she found it difficult to comprehend what Rosalyn was asking.
“Is
“That you are acquainted with Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise. “Mr. Darcy? I… I am… only a little. Why do you ask?”
“After you left, Mr. Bingley told us about how both he and Mr. Darcy had made your acquaintance at Netherfield. Mr. Bingley was very gracious in his words about you and your family, and from the sound of it, you were in their company a great deal.”
“We did see them on occasion. They were present at some dances, and we attended a ball that Mr. Bingley hosted at Netherfield.”
“Oh, Elizabeth! I am simply beside myself! But you must promise me to never mention a word of this to anyone!” Her blue eyes deepened in intensity.
Elizabeth was now wide awake and most attentive to Rosalyn’s words. She watched as Rosalyn took in a deep breath and looked around as if to make sure that there was no one listening.
“
Elizabeth found it difficult to swallow as her mouth became inexplicably dry. “You mean that Mr. Darcy is…”
“Yes! The gentleman of whom I spoke the other day!” Rosalyn clasped her hands together. “I cannot believe I am telling you this!”
Elizabeth shuddered.
“His family lived on just the other side of a neighbouring village when I was growing up. Because of my mother’s poor connections, we only occasionally frequented the elite circles that the Darcys did. From the first moment I saw him, though, I knew he was the one I wished to marry.”
Elizabeth hoped that the shock of hearing this was not displayed on her face. “I thought I understood that your family was from Staffordshire, whereas Mr. Darcy is from Derbyshire.”
Rosalyn sat down on the edge of the bed. “We were in different but neighbouring counties. Pemberley is situated on the Derbyshire side a few miles from where we lived.”
“I see,” Elizabeth said, really never expecting Mr. Darcy to be the one of whom Rosalyn spoke. She tried to grasp all that her friend was saying.
“Unfortunately, the manor near Pemberley in which I grew up was only let by my parents. When I was fourteen, my father was able to purchase the home in which they now live, which is in Northamptonshire. I was so disappointed when we moved away. I truly believed I would never see him again. As a young girl, I was quite devastated.”
“And have you seen much of him since then?” Elizabeth pensively asked.
“I have seen him on a few occasions in Town; our families have spoken occasionally, but I have always been too nervous to say anything to him.” Rosalyn appealed to Elizabeth with wide eyes as she earnestly asked, “Would you please tell me something about him?” Pausing to take a deep breath, she then asked, “What is your opinion of him from the time he spent at Netherfield?”
“What… what would you have me tell you?”
Rosalyn stood up and twirled about, as if she were a ballerina on a stage, her hands clasped tightly together. “Tell me whether you believe he is not the handsomest man you have ever met… and kind… and generous…” She stopped twirling and looked intently at Elizabeth. “Well?”
Elizabeth immediately felt the increase in her heartbeat. “I cannot speak on all those things, but yes, Rosalyn. I suppose… he is basically a good man.” How could she say otherwise? She had come to recognize over the past year that he was, in essentials, a good man. In her eyes his greatest fault was his interference between
