Page 60 of Elizabeth in Scotland (Elizabeth and Darcy Abroad #2)

“It is already dead,” Jane said coldly, looking down her nose at Elizabeth. “She is no sister of mine. From this day forward, I will think of her as dead to me.”

Mrs Bennet gasped. “You cannot mean that, Jane.”

“I do,” Jane snapped. “When I leave Longbourn to be wed, I will never enter it again until it belongs to me. And when it does belong to me, Elizabeth will never be welcome here again.”

In her shock and horror, Elizabeth could hardly speak.

The blows seemed to come nonstop against her heart.

Her relationship with Jane might never recover.

However, she would not hold this, what she hoped was temporary madness, against her.

The years before that they had shared as bosom confidantes, as best friends and sisters, were too valuable to her to let go of completely.

“I hope you might change your mind someday, Jane. I, for one, am not willing to let go of everything we have shared throughout our lives.” She looked around the room at her shredded gown. Then Elizabeth looked up at Jane with tears pooling in her eyes. “I forgive you.”

Jane glared at her. “I will never change my mind.” She stepped over the gown and went to the door.

This time, her parents allowed her to pass, still in shock, no doubt.

“And I do not need your forgiveness. You should be begging for my forgiveness. Indeed, if you and Mr Darcy ever fall on hard times, expect no help from Mr Collins and me.”

The very ridiculousness of the statement was its own balm.

How pitiable of Jane to seek to hurt her in such a way!

It was then that Elizabeth had no choice but to accept that her once-beloved sister would never change her mind.

But that did not mean she had to greet her hatefulness with more hatefulness.

With the acceptance of her sister’s true nature came peace.

She raised her head, sadness blooming through her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

But she would not allow Jane to see her cry.

She had cried enough over the last weeks and days for something she would never get back.

“If ever my family finds themselves thrust into hard times, I will be there to help. Even you, Jane. I hope you will come to us if ever you are in need.”

Jane scoffed at this, nonplussed. She seemed to search for something to say that would hurt her all the more. “We will not attend the wedding, obviously. I do not wish you well.”

“I think that would be best,” Elizabeth said. Her sister turned and stomped down the hall, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

Her mother and father were by her side in an instant.

“My dear, I am so sorry. I have never seen her behave thus,” Mrs Bennet said.

“We will deal with her after the wedding. But for now, what is to be done? We’ve only an hour to change and get ourselves to Netherfield Park.

” Her mother fanned herself, and a moment later, her three younger sisters came into view, peeking into the room and gasping at the destruction that Jane had wrought.

“Oh, I just know I will have a nervous fit. Mary, retrieve my fan!”

Mary hurried away immediately, and her mother sat down on the window seat.

Elizabeth sank onto the edge of the bed, trying to hold painful disappointment at bay.

She had been so looking forward to wearing the dress for Mr Darcy, of glowing with happiness in the magnificent silk he had chosen.

Now, she would likely have to don one of her cotton day dresses instead.

“The gown does not make the bride,” her father said softly.

“Mr Darcy will be pleased no matter what you wear. And the main thing to keep in consideration is that you will be married today. The man you are marrying holds your heart, and you his. No one can ask for more than that, especially in a world where marriage without affection is so common.” He came over to her and took her hand.

“Perhaps Miss Darcy has something that would be appropriate?”

“There is no time to send for anything,” Elizabeth said. “I must dress here and now, before we take the carriage to church.” She sat in gloom for a moment, wishing that she had come straight up to her room. She might then have stopped Jane from destroying her gown.

But thinking of lost chances could do her no good.

Suddenly, an idea came to her. Elizabeth stood up decisively from the bed.

Going to the closet, she retrieved the tartan dress that she had bought with the lion’s share of her savings and the thistle pin that Georgiana — and Mr Darcy — had given her.

“This will do nicely, I think,” she said firmly.

“The tartan? But it is not even silk!” her mother said, appalled at the idea.

Her father smiled and nodded. “I think it very fitting, for it is Scotland that brought the two of you together. We might never have met the Darcys if not for our trip to Strathalt House.” He smiled broadly.

“Yes, I think it is perfect. Girls!” he called to the three standing outside the room.

“Call the maid to help your sister gather up this mess and dress for her wedding day.” With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

As Elizabeth stood in front of the mirror, she fought the urge to cry. She did not want her eyes to be puffy when they arrived at the church. But she thought her father was right. Mr Darcy would be pleased with her choice.

More importantly, her father was right on another count. It did not matter what she wore to the wedding, or that the decorations were perfect, or even that the wedding breakfast was a success. All that mattered was that she would be Mrs Darcy, joined forever to the man she loved.