Page 21 of More Than You Know (The Love Conquers Pride #3)
Chapter Twenty
E lizabeth and Jane returned to their apartment late that evening, the gentle light from the fireplace casting a soothing glow about the space. To their surprise, they found a silver tray resting upon the low table in their sitting room, bearing a pot of chocolate and a neatly arranged plate of biscuits. A brief note, penned in a careful hand, lay beside it.
Jane picked it up. “It is from Georgiana, thanking us for contributing to a most delightful Christmas.”
Elizabeth smiled, touched by the young lady’s thoughtfulness. “How very kind of her,” she murmured, settling into a chair as Jane poured the rich, fragrant chocolate into their cups. The comforting aroma filled the room, mingling with the faint scent of pine and winter air that crept through the windowpanes.
For a time, they sipped in silence, savouring the warmth of the drink and the sweetness of the biscuits. However, her sister’s thoughtful expression did not escape Elizabeth’s attention.
At length, Jane set down her cup, saying with quiet concern, “Lizzy, are you well? I could not help but notice you have seemed…not quite yourself these past few days. Are you certain you are fully recovered from your ordeal in the snow?”
Elizabeth paused, the cup halfway to her lips, before attempting a reassuring smile. “I am perfectly well, I promise you. You need not trouble yourself on my account.” Seeking to divert the conversation, she tilted her head thoughtfully before continuing, “Though, if we are speaking of such things, I might say the same of you. You seemed a bit melancholy this evening. It is not like you, especially as I know Christmas has always been one of your favourite days of the year.”
Across from her, Jane sighed softly. “Forgive me, I did not mean to worry you. It is nothing of consequence. Only…I have been thinking a good deal about the future of late. Everything will change soon, I expect.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted slightly in confusion. “Change?”
Jane nodded, offering a wistful smile. “If you are to marry Mr Bingley, you will leave Longbourn, and I dare say I must soon follow suit. So, this may be our last Christmas together for some time.”
Elizabeth felt her breath catch, a flicker of unease tightening in her chest at Jane’s mention of Mr Bingley. Although she had come to accept that a marriage between them was out of the question, she could not, in good conscience, confide in Jane before addressing the matter with the gentleman himself.
Keeping her voice light, she replied evenly, “As Mr Bingley has yet to propose, our understanding is far from settled. But even if we were to marry, I should only be at Netherfield, which is scarcely three miles away. So I see little reason to worry over such a thing now.”
But to Elizabeth’s surprise, instead of appearing relieved, Jane offered up a wan smile.
“Perhaps it will be I who lives too far away to return for Christmas. If, say, I was to marry Mr Collins and make my home in Kent,” she finished in a low tone, her gaze fixed upon her lap.
At Jane’s words, Elizabeth startled, staring back at her sister with unconcealed alarm. “What? Marry Mr Collins? Jane, you cannot be serious!”
“And why not? I shall have to marry someone, after all, and with Mr Collins, at least Longbourn would remain in the family. He would be a prudent choice.”
Elizabeth’s distress deepened with every word. The very notion turned her stomach. “Jane, I absolutely forbid it!” she burst out, her agitation impossible to contain. “Mr Collins is an insufferable imbecile who would make you wretched for the rest of your days. You could not bear such a life.”
Jane exhaled sharply. “And whom shall I marry, then, Lizzy? The butcher in Meryton? Or perhaps Uncle Philips’s clerk? I think we both know there is no one in Hertfordshire who would suit me. And time does not stand still—for any of us.”
Elizabeth’s heart twisted, but Jane pressed on, her voice turning sombre. “I had thought, perhaps, Mr Darcy might be a worthy prospect, but that has come to nothing. In truth, I dread returning home only to confess to Mama that I did not manage to secure his interest during our stay.”
At her sister’s words, Elizabeth’s breath caught, and it took all her strength to ask gently, “Jane…do you care for Mr Darcy?”
Jane let out a small, humourless laugh before shaking her head. “No, Lizzy, I do not. And he has certainly never shown the slightest inclination towards me. But Mama…” She paused, exhaling slowly. “Mama has built castles in the air, and I know not how to restore her to reality.”
Elizabeth’s expression softened, and she reached out, taking her sister’s hand in a reassuring grasp. “Jane, you must not think yourself bound to fulfil Mama’s every whim. And most certainly not with Mr Collins.”
“I know,” Jane replied. “I spoke in jest, at least in part. But there is truth in my worries. Before long, I shall have to marry someone.”
“Yes. But you deserve a husband who will cherish you, not merely offer you security. As for Mr Darcy, he would not have suited you, in any case.”
Jane tilted her head, studying Elizabeth with a contemplative expression. “No, he would not. I do like the gentleman, of course,” she hurried to add, “and I know you are fond of him. It is only that he is so very serious, and his countenance is severe most of the time. I do not think I could ever be entirely easy in his company.”
Elizabeth offered her sister a wry smile before saying kindly, “You need not justify your feelings to me, Jane. I do like Mr Darcy—very much. But I can see that his temperament would not be agreeable to everybody.”
To this, her sister nodded her agreement, saying hurriedly, “It is just that I had always imagined my husband to be a gentleman of a more social disposition—one who delights in conversation, shares my interests, and whom I might speak to freely and easily.”
Elizabeth blinked, her sister’s words falling into place like the soft click of a latch, finding its hold.
“Someone like Mr Bingley…” she murmured.
“Well, yes!” Jane said with feeling before her cheeks turned rosy and she stammered, “That is not to say—of course, I do not mean Mr Bingley specifically .”
“No, of course not,” Elizabeth answered absently. She allowed her thoughts to drift for a moment longer before shaking them away with a measured breath. Then, turning to Jane, she offered a reassuring smile before pressing her hand with gentle affection. “In any case, you need not worry. The right gentleman will come along soon enough, I am certain of it. With your beauty and sweet disposition, how could it be otherwise?”
But to Elizabeth’s surprise, Jane frowned back at her. Pulling her hand away, she rose from her seat, pacing across the carpet.
“Is that what you think I want? For some gentleman to offer for me simply because my appearance and manners are pleasing to him, without ever taking the trouble to learn anything about me?”
Elizabeth’s mouth opened, but no words came, and Jane carried on, her cheeks flushed with emotion. “And as for being sweet and demure—did you ever consider that I am reserved in company because I have always been terrified of putting a foot wrong? That every word I utter feels like a trial?”
“Oh, Jane,” Elizabeth whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Forgive me for speaking so thoughtlessly. I had no idea?—”
But Jane cut in, her voice rising. “But that is just it, Lizzy! You cannot begin to understand what it has been like for me—to feel as though the future of our entire family rests upon my shoulders. Since I was old enough to comprehend our situation, I have known that it would fall to me to raise our fortunes. For as long as I can remember, Mama has made it all too clear that my beauty is to be our salvation. That I must marry well or risk seeing our family reduced to ruin the moment Papa is gone.”
Her breath quickened, and she turned away, her arms crossing tightly against her chest. “Do you have any idea what it has felt like to live under such a burden? To know that my mother sees me as nothing more than a means to an end? That I am to be bartered away to the highest bidder, like some prized thoroughbred, regardless of my own wishes?
“And you—” Jane’s voice wavered before she steadied it once more, “—you have always declared that you would marry for nothing less than the deepest love. But I have never had that luxury. I shall marry where I must, despite my inclinations.”
Elizabeth stared back at her sister, stunned into silence. A cold realization settled over her, guilt twisting sharply in her chest. Without a word, she rose swiftly and crossed the room.
“Oh, my dearest Jane,” she murmured, pulling her sister into a fierce embrace. “Why did you never say any of this to me before? No, do not answer that. You should not have had to say it—I should have had the presence of mind to understand. But I was blind, like all the others. All I saw was your serenity, your grace, and your sweet disposition. I did not see because I did not take the trouble to see.”
Jane trembled in her arms, silent tears slipping down her cheeks. “I did not wish to burden you,” she whispered brokenly. “You have always had such a lively, carefree disposition, and I would never wish for that to change.”
Elizabeth shook her head firmly, drawing back just enough to meet Jane’s tear-filled eyes. “You should never have borne that weight alone. I see you now, Jane, truly see you . And I shall never forgive myself for failing to notice your pain.”
Jane gave a small, choked sob and leaned into her sister’s embrace. Elizabeth’s arms tightened in a protective hold, as though she could shield Jane from every unkind expectation placed upon her slender shoulders.
The fire crackled quietly, casting a warm glow over them as they stood entwined, two sisters bound not just by blood but by a newfound understanding. In that quiet moment, Elizabeth silently promised that she would do everything in her power to help Jane find happiness—on her own terms.
The morning of Boxing Day dawned crisp and clear over Pemberley, the frost clinging delicately to the windowpanes. Darcy had risen early, taking his breakfast alone in his chambers. It was a calculated retreat, one he knew was cowardly, but avoiding Elizabeth Bennet seemed the wisest course—for both their sakes.
Ever since their return from the dower house, his attraction to her had become a quiet torment—one he dared not indulge. He reminded himself that any attachment between them was impossible, and lingering in her company would only stoke feelings that could never be realized. Worse still, he feared that offering her even the faintest glimmer of hope would be a cruelty he could not permit himself.
With these thoughts pressing upon him, Darcy strode resolutely through the great hall. Having spent the morning overseeing the accounts with his steward, he was intent on sequestering himself in his study for the remainder of the day. However, as he turned the corner, a sudden movement caught his eye.
Bingley emerged from the library with an air of barely contained exuberance, his step unusually light and brisk. As Darcy advanced, he noticed the faint blush on his friend’s cheeks and the uncharacteristic brightness in his eyes. Not noticing Darcy’s presence, Bingley adjusted his cravat before turning and hurrying off in the opposite direction.
With measured steps, Darcy advanced along the corridor, stopping at the threshold to the library and peering inside.
There, seated alone by the window, was Elizabeth Bennet. The faint morning light danced across her features, and there was a composed stillness about her. He knew he should continue on his way, but something made him step inside the room.
Darcy cleared his throat quietly. “Miss Elizabeth,” he greeted, inclining his head with careful politeness. “I trust you are well this morning?”
She turned at the sound of his voice, and the faint flicker of a smile brightened her expression.
“Mr Darcy,” she greeted with a formal nod. “Yes, I am quite well, I thank you.”
He lingered near the doorway, hesitant, yet something continued to compel him to speak.
“I just saw Bingley in the corridor,” he began, his tone casual though his heart had quickened. “He appeared—exceedingly happy.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth answered with an enigmatic smile, “I expect he did. That is often the result of anticipating a lifetime spent with the woman you love.”
Darcy’s stomach clenched as a cold sense of dread surged through his body. So, it was over, then. The moment he had both anticipated and dreaded had come to pass. Bingley had finally offered for Elizabeth—and been accepted.
“Ah. I see. Well, in that case, pray allow me to be the first to wish you joy,” he forced out through stiff lips.
To his further mortification, Elizabeth’s smile broadened.
“Thank you. I could not be more delighted. Indeed, I can think of very little that would bring me more joy than the happiness of a much-beloved sister. As for myself, I have always wished for a brother, and I dare say Mr Bingley will make an excellent one.”
Darcy blinked, stammering at length, “I-I beg your pardon. I had assumed?—”
“That Mr Bingley had come here to make an offer of marriage to me?” she finished smoothly, and Darcy gave a curt nod.
“I expect he did. However, I did not give him the opportunity. It has recently become clear to me that Mr Bingley is far better suited to my sister Jane. In fact, I now believe him to be quite in love with her, and I am confident that she returns his affections. I simply let Mr Bingley know that I would much prefer to welcome him to the family as a brother rather than a husband.”
As Elizabeth’s words took hold, Darcy’s mind churned with a storm of conflicting emotions, but anger won the day, and his jaw tightened as he stared back at her.
“You should not have done that. Despite any feelings he may harbour for your sister, Bingley would have been a steadfast husband to you had you given him the chance.”
Elizabeth gazed back at him with an arched brow. “Mr Darcy, were I merely in search of a loyal companion, I should just as soon have selected a puppy.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened. “While I generally admire your wit, this is hardly the time for humour. Have you given any thought to the consequences of your actions? How will you explain the transfer of Bingley’s affections to your sister when you return to Longbourn? You will be a laughingstock!”
Elizabeth’s smile faded at the harshness of his tone, but she replied with equanimity, “I am not in the habit of managing the opinions of others, Mr Darcy. Those who know me well will understand, and those who do not may think as they please. In any case, I would rather endure the censure of my neighbours than a lifetime of being married to the wrong man.”
Darcy stared at her, torn between admiration for her boldness and frustration at her recklessness. His chest tightened with the knowledge that he could not shield her from the consequences of her own choices—and that he had no right to try.
Releasing a strangled sigh, he brusquely raked his fingers through his hair. “If you truly feel you could not have been happy with Bingley, I suppose I must respect your decision. But pray, tell me you have not done this for my sake, Elizabeth, because on that score, nothing has changed, nor will it.”
“So, that is it, then?” Elizabeth replied, her voice laced with anger. “You refuse to marry me, even though you love me?”
Her accusation hit Darcy with startling force, and he took an involuntary step backwards. “That is not—” he began, but the words caught in his throat.
Elizabeth stood, her eyes flashing with the fire he had always associated with her. “Can you deny it, Mr Darcy? Can you stand there and tell me truthfully that you do not love me?”
Despite his best intentions, Darcy’s defences crumbled beneath the weight of her challenge. Closing his eyes briefly, he whispered, “No, I cannot. I do love you. More than you know. And I shall carry that love with me until my dying day. But it is not enough to build a life on—at least not the sort of life you deserve.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted, as though to speak, but Darcy raised a hand, his throat taut with restrained emotion.
“Please, do not make this any more difficult than it is already. I have done all that you have asked of me. Now it is my turn to request something of you.” Stepping closer, he continued, “You must move on from this, Elizabeth. Find someone worthy of your regard, someone who will cherish you and care for you. You are wasting your time with me.”
The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he knew them to be necessary. She was too far above him, and there were shadows within that he could never allow to touch her. The risk was too great, the cost too dear.
Elizabeth’s eyes shimmered, but she did not look away. For a fleeting moment, Darcy thought she might argue—might refuse to let him retreat into this cold resolve. But then, slowly, she inclined her head, the smallest of acknowledgements.
The air between them grew heavy, and Darcy felt the weight of all he was sacrificing press down upon him. Without another word, he turned and left the room.
On the fourth day after Christmas, word reached Pemberley that the roads were clear, and plans for the departure of the Hertfordshire party were soon underway.
It was decided that Elizabeth and Jane would journey to London with their aunt and uncle, stopping only briefly at Longbourn to collect the Gardiner children. In confidence, the sisters had spoken privately with their aunt regarding Mr Bingley, and all agreed it would be best for them to remain away from Hertfordshire for a time.
This arrangement would grant Mr Bingley and Jane the opportunity to court in relative privacy and, perhaps, reach an understanding before her return home. Mr Bingley, for his part, would continue on to Leeds to visit his aunt as planned, though he eagerly anticipated a swift return to town.
Meanwhile, Dr Harper would depart for Yorkshire to resume his own affairs.
The days that followed her conversation in the library with Mr Darcy had been difficult ones for Elizabeth. She avoided the gentleman as much as possible, spending her time in the company of Georgiana and her own relations. Despite her outward composure, Elizabeth could not quiet the lingering ache within her heart. Each moment in Mr Darcy’s presence felt heavier than the last, and so she kept her distance, knowing it was for the best.
When the day of their departure at last arrived, emotions ran high. Tears were shed and embraces shared between Elizabeth, Jane, and Georgiana with promises to write and plans to reunite in London in a few weeks’ time.
Elizabeth’s farewell to Mr Darcy was far more subdued. He was the picture of civility, offering genuine farewells to her aunt and uncle and wishing them a safe journey. When it came time to bid Elizabeth goodbye, he merely dipped his chin before handing her into the carriage. Elizabeth felt a familiar start as her gloved hand met his, but their parting words were devoid of emotion.
As their carriage made its way down the winding drive, Elizabeth stared out of the window, watching the rolling fields unfurl before her. She was under no illusion that Mr Darcy would one day change his mind and offer for her; she knew that he would not. He was a gentleman of strong convictions, and he would stand by the decision he had made. Still, she would always be grateful for the time she had spent at Pemberley. It had afforded her the chance to see Mr Darcy as he truly was, as few would ever be granted the privilege of doing, and it had opened her eyes to her own feelings. She believed Mr Darcy when he said that he would never marry, and she knew now that neither would she. But even if they spent the remainder of their lives apart, she would take comfort in the fact that a piece of her would always be his, just as a part of him would forever belong to her. And of course, she could not forget the one other thing that had come out of their journey to Derbyshire: Jane had found her heart’s desire and the companion of her future life. For one had only to look into the eyes of the happy couple when they beheld one another to know that they would be together for the remainder of their days.
As for Elizabeth, she would never have the future she had once imagined, but securing the happiness of a most beloved sister was enough.
It would have to be.