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Although spring was usually her favorite season, Elizabeth found that her spirits remained low that year, even after her father read Mr. Darcy’s letter and made some changes in how he interacted with his family.

When Mr. Bennet informed Lydia that she would not be going to Brighton, the youngest Miss Bennet threw a tantrum that lasted for weeks.

She guessed correctly that Lizzy had something to do with their father’s change of mind and directed at her all the vitriol that a spoiled child could muster.

Exceptionally cold, rainy weather kept Elizabeth housebound for days on end.

At Longbourn, there was the inescapable cacophony of Lydia’s complaints (echoed by Kitty), Mary’s pedantic playing at all hours, and Mrs. Bennet’s continued moaning over the dismal prospects of her five unmarried daughters.

She continued to blame Lizzy for rejecting Mr. Collins, fret over Mr. Bingley’s disappearance, and gossip with her sister Mrs. Phillips about everything under the sun.

There seemed a greater distance between Lizzy and her father, as though Mr. Bennet’s confidences had made him slightly uncomfortable around her.

She was pleased to notice that he was gentler toward her mother and younger sisters.

Although his sarcasm could never be wholly discarded, he attempted to direct it at people or events outside their family circle more often than before.

In general he seemed to spend a great deal more time watching them, as if trying to understand these people with whom he had lived for years but only just noticed.

Elizabeth was most saddened by the turn her relationship with Jane had taken.

Immediately after returning from London, they had discussed Mr. Darcy’s proposal and the revelations over Mr. Wickham, agreeing that the information should not be shared beyond their father.

Jane had spoken little of Miss Bingley, saying only that she had given Lizzy all the details of their encounters in her letters.

Of Mr. Bingley, she spoke not at all. To anyone less familiar than Elizabeth, Jane might have seemed unconcerned but her heartbreak was palpable to her closest sister.

While Elizabeth craved a confidant with whom to vent, Jane turned inward.

She went through the normal motions of her life but her gentle smiles never turned into real laughter as in times past. When Elizabeth attempted to tease her into displaying her true feelings, Jane would simply wave her off, saying only “I am perfectly well, Lizzy,” and leave to attend to some household duty.

Some of Elizabeth’s despondency was due to the weight of the many secrets she was charged with keeping.

She was relieved when the militia left for Brighton but Lydia and Kitty spoke of the officers so often that she was constantly reminded of her own mistakes and the truth revealed by Mr. Darcy’s letter.

She told no one except her father of what she knew about Mr. Bingley’s absence and that weighed on her every time Mrs. Bennet wailed over the loss of Netherfield’s master or she caught a glimpse of melancholy in Jane’s eyes.

And then there were her father’s confidences that she could share with no one.

Elizabeth wished for a confidante and it amused her to no end that the one person with whom she could see herself entrusting with it all and understanding her feelings was Mr. Darcy.

She had not come to regret her refusal; his offer had been worded in such a way that she could not have been assured of his respect.

However, the longer that she thought upon their unconventional acquaintance, the more she recognized that they had shared a unique honesty in their interactions that was rare between ladies and gentlemen in polite society.

Elizabeth often wondered what might have happened, had he been less proud of his wealth and connections and she been less prejudiced by his rude words at the Meryton Assembly.

She found herself having imaginary conversations with him, peppered with phrases that she remembered from their various exchanges.

As she gradually lost her habitual irritation at the very thought of the man, other more pleasant memories began to surface.

Mr. Darcy had not been intimidated by her intellectual bent; indeed, if she now understood his words at Netherfield correctly, he had openly praised her extensive reading habits.

The memory of Miss Bingley yawning over a volume with little interest other than the desire to gain a certain gentleman’s attention made Lizzy smirk even now, months later.

Although she still squirmed with discomfort over her words to him during their dance at the Netherfield ball, his suggestion that they converse about books now made her smile softly.

Even if Mrs. Bennet did not regularly remind her, Elizabeth had long learned to conceal her quick mind and broad education from their general acquaintance.

Gentlemen, in particular, did not appreciate being corrected by some slip of a girl.

One evening when she was but fifteen, she had been driven to a fury close to tears after she had contributed to the gentlemen’s conversation over why the French commoners had rallied to Napoleon.

Her comment had been brushed aside by Mr. Lucas (soon to become Sir William).

Young Evan Goulding, of an age with her but unable to locate Paris on a map, had laughed aloud at her. “Don’t be silly, Lizzy! Everyone knows that girls can’t understand politics!”

It was probably fortunate that dinner was announced before Elizabeth could respond.

She found herself beside the ever-serene Jane and managed to absorb some of her elder sister’s composure for the remainder of the evening.

Later she had poured out her woes to her father but he had had no good solution for her.

“You have a good mind, Lizzy. Don’t let the opinions of those dolts impede your pursuit of knowledge.

A well-stocked mind shall always be a good companion, even when you are surrounded by fools.

” Then he had given her a copy of Mary Wollstonecraft’s treatise on the education of women and retreated to the well-worn caverns of his own thoughts.

Now, in these days of self-study, Elizabeth took out that book and read it again, although with somewhat different feelings.

At fifteen, she had been struck by all the inequalities of the world and had instantly resolved to become a bluestocking.

The phase had not lasted long for as much as Lizzy enjoyed learning about that which interested her, she was not given to constant study and Longbourn’s bustle was certainly not supportive of such.

Now enlightened by her father’s revelations, Elizabeth found her memories colored in a new light.

In truth, she had always felt somewhat ashamed by her lack of focused study.

Certainly she was the best-educated among the ladies of her acquaintance but she had never had any desire to closet herself away for days on end studying the minutia of a single essay as she saw her father do.

Now, having heard her father’s description of how Mrs. Bennet had brought a certain liveliness into the house upon their marriage, Elizabeth began to realize that she had inherited aspects of her mother in addition to her father, and that that was not a wholly bad thing.

Rather than seeing her own ease and enjoyment of society as a fault, she began to allow herself the freedom to be herself rather than a poor replica of her studious, cynical father.

Indeed, she realized that, although she had always belittled her own lack of accomplishments, she had never really had the desire to alter her true self, perhaps knowing unconsciously that she had inherited too much of her mother’s warmth and energy to ever fully take on her father’s misanthropic demeanor.

Through all of this introspection, Elizabeth cheered herself with the thought that her upcoming trip to the Lake District with the Gardiners would soon provide a pleasant distraction.

However, on the first day of May, Elizabeth received a letter from her aunt indicating that their trip to the northern counties would be delayed and abbreviated.

Her disappointed mood was raised slightly by the letter’s hint that, although the public explanation to be given out was her uncle’s business, the reality was a temporary illness of her aunt that they hoped signaled a new addition to the Gardiner family.

Mr. Bennet needed to consult with his brother-in-law on a business matter that could not be delayed and so it was arranged that Elizabeth and her father would travel to London.

When he returned to Hertfordshire, she would remain with the Gardiners for several weeks to assist while her aunt was indisposed.

Although Lizzy might prefer the country, she looked forward to whatever entertainments they might partake of in town while being of use to her favorite relatives.

The change of scenery improved Elizabeth’s mood a great deal.

She was adored by her young cousins for her stories, games, and fearless nature when they went to explore the parks.

Although her Aunt Madeleine’s sickness often kept that lady bedridden in the mornings, she spent her afternoons and evenings with as much energy as ever.

One afternoon, after seeing Lizzy return from the park with her skirts six inches deep in mud and children’s dirty fingerprints scattered about the rest of the fabric, Mrs. Gardiner insisted on taking her niece on a shopping expedition.