Chapter One
AsElizabethBennetburstout of doors into the late morning, she gasped sharply at the sudden cold. After clearing admirably for the ball at Netherfield the evening before, the weather had again turned. She would normally have taken note of the frost on the windows in the drawing room, but her attention had been entirely focused upon Mr. Collins and his dreadful proposal.
Mamma had been waiting in the vestibule, of course. Heaven forbid she not be the first to hear that her most difficult daughter was to be wed to the ridiculous heir of Longbourn. In this, as in so many other matters, Elizabeth had been bound to disappoint. There was simply no way she could abide marriage to such a man.
She had been walking for a few minutes when she heard quick, dainty footsteps behind her. Only Jane walked in such a way, and Elizabeth stopped to wait for her. Something warm descended over her shoulders, and she reached up to fasten the cloak she had left behind.
“Mamma means well,” Jane said, motioning that they should continue.
Elizabeth sighed. “She does. She simply does not care whether we are made happy so long as she is kept safe.”
“Elizabeth,” Jane said softly, shaking her head. “I do not think Mamma has been happy in some time. She must believe it is not as necessary to be happy as it is to be secure.”
“Do you blame me, then, for refusing Mr. Collins?” Elizabeth inquired. Her throat tightened painfully. If Jane was upset with her . . .
To Elizabeth’s very great surprise, Jane laughed. “Of course not. Mr. Collins is a respectable young man, Lizzy, but you would drive one another mad within a fortnight.”
A smile began to tug at the corners of Elizabeth’s lips. “You do not think the great Lady Catherine de Bourgh would approve of me?”
Jane took her arm. “Allow me to admit only that I should like to witness the two of you in the same room.”
Elizabeth half laughed and laid her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Oh, Jane,” she said with a sigh. “Everything is such a muddle. Last night I had such high hopes for the ball, but Mr. Collins dashed them by taking my first two dances. And this morning . . .”
“Were you hoping for a different partner last evening, perhaps?”
“You know I was. But Mr. Darcy’s presence prevented Mr. Wickham from attending.”
Jane made a disapproving sound.
“Jane?”
“Lizzy,” Jane said gently, “I know you have been greatly disturbed this morning, but I must ask. What, precisely, did Mr. Darcy do that kept Mr. Wickham away?”
Elizabeth straightened. “What do you mean?”
Jane’s deep blue eyes held hers. “All the officers were invited, so was not this decision Mr. Wickham’s to make? And had he not said to you previously that he would not run away from Mr. Darcy?”
Elizabeth frowned. Mr. Wickhamhadsaid that. She had related it to Jane herself, as proof that he was the innocent in the matters that lay between the two men. A pang of misgiving struck her. “That is true,” she said slowly.
“I would like to believe that there is simply some misunderstanding between them,” Jane said. “However, I cannot accept that all the fault must be Mr. Darcy’s. And if he had not insulted you so grievously, Lizzy, neither would you.”
Jane was correct, of course, but Elizabeth did not want to admit it.
They were approaching Meryton, but Elizabeth did not wish to meet anyone with whom they might be required to make polite conversation. She turned onto a path through the trees, one that led south, towards the Meryton road.
“Of course, you have been more in company with Mr. Darcy than I,” Jane demurred. “His hurtful refusal to dance with you at the assembly was very wrong. But did he not ask you to dance last night, at a much more formal affair?”
Hehaddone that, and she could make no sense of her conflicted feelings. She was angry with him on Mr. Wickham’s behalf. And she was angry with herself because a part of her still desired Mr. Darcy’s approval.
“Let me ask you something.” Jane drew the hood of her own cloak up over her head, for the weather was not warming. “If you were forced to choose, who would you wed—Mr. Darcy or Mr. Collins?”
Elizabeth tried to laugh, her breath escaping in puffs of frozen air. “Are these to be my only choices?”
Jane just looked at her.
Reluctantly, Elizabeth considered it. Clearly, Mr. Darcy would be a better match than Mr. Collins. Although both men vexed her exceedingly, Mr. Darcy was not entirely devoid of sense, even if he seemed to be devoid of humility. She pulled a face at her sister.
Jane smiled brightly and wound her arm around Elizabeth’s. “Just as I thought.”